Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before
by Elderdrake
Summary: For anyone still checking THIS HAS BEEN UPDATED. Sorry for the long, long wait... And so, let us return to the fate of everyone's favourite demented Sorceress!
1. Storm Warning

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!

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PROLOGUE

Storm Warning

It was a drizzly night in early May, chilly even for Zefeeria with its northern latitude and location on the outer ocean coast. The night had been slow, despite the offer of free warm drinks like tea and mulled wine with the meal. Master Javvers, proprietor and chief chef of one of Zefeeria City's finest restaurants ("_Ye Gluttonous Merchant — Home of Zefeerian-Style Stuff'd Lobstertaile!_") stirred the embers in the common room hearth, getting ready to bank the fire until morning. Behind him, the last staff waitress — all the others had been sent home early - was trimming the wicks in the oil lamps and giving the tables a last wipe-down. Missus Javvers was tidying in the kitchen.

Master Javvers stretched and yawned.

"Miss Luna?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You've already wiped every table three times this evening, and the last customer left half-an-hour ago. Why don't you go home and get some rest. You have breakfast shift tomorrow, don't you? The missus and I can tidy the last bit here and don't worry, I'll pay you as if you stayed until close."

"Thank you, sir the tips were a little thin tonight"

There was a stomp on the steps. Luna sighed.

"Wouldn't you know it, sir? Here we are, just ten minutes from closing on a slow evening and someone HAS to show up"

"Aie-ai-ai, and most of the food has already been stored away for tomorrow"

The door opened. Despite being quite damp, and rather worn-out, the late customer was the kind of person who commanded immediate attention. Regal. Pale green hair, tropical blue eyes, silvery grey robes. She was middle-aged, but had the looks and bearing of a queen. Both Luna and Javvers immediately stood a little straighter.

Then Luna gasped in recognition "Umm, sir? I know her. One of my old tutors. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, if you don't. I'm always willing to stay late on the promise of a few extra coins' profit on a slow night like this one. Hummm the stew is still on the stove, and the tea water and mulled drinks are still warm." Master Javvers turned for the kitchen to see what else could be prepared on short notice.

Luna walked over to take the lady's outerware. The lady seemed a little frazzled.

"Miss? I can take your cloak if you want I'll hang it by the hearth to dry a little."

"Thank you, thank you. Please. Miserable spring I'm sorry to come calling just before close like this, but I just got in to town, and most everything but the nastier pubs were closed already."

"It's been slow business everywhere for a quite while you know. Everyone's taken to closing earlier. The weather keeps restaurant clientele at home. The pubs sure have been doing a brisk business, though. Ship's crews like their warm grog when it's miserable like this. Especially when they're fresh from a winter run on the North Ocean."

"Ha! And of course the warm serving girls have nothing to do with it!"

Luna winced, then smiled as she escorted the customer to a table "Just because it's impolite doesn't change the truth, I guess. And you've always been plainspoken, Miss Gleyzia."

Miss Gleyzia stopped "How did you?" She looked hard at the waitress.

"I, wait Miss Luna? Goodness, I didn't recognize you. Whatever are you doing _waitressing_? You have a bigger job! This this is beneath you!!"

"Hush!" Luna's voice dropped to a whisper. "Sorry, ma'am. That's not really public knowledge and I'm waitressing because that other job' doesn't come with a salary, you know. I need groceries and a roof over my head. Besides, I don't mind. The money's good here, and I get to meet people." Then she raised her voice again "So, miss, we still have some warm beef stew. There's mulled cider and wine, or tea if you prefer. If you can wait a couple of minutes, I should be able to tell you what else is still available tonight."

"Tea, please. A whole pot. And stew is fine, please ask your boss?"

"Master Javvers."

"Please ask Master Javvers not to trouble himself with anything else."

"Just a moment then"

While Luna was in the kitchen, Miss Gleyzia sighed, then leaned back and massaged at the bridge of her nose. What was the world coming to? The Knight of Cepheed having to work as a waitress to make ends meet...?

After five minutes Luna came back with the order. 

Miss Gleyzia sat back up. "Thank you would your Mister Javvers mind if you sat and chatted with an old friend for a couple of minutes?"

"I doubt it. We're pretty much closed already. I'd just be hovering about in case you needed something, anyway."

"Good, because I came to Zefeeria to see you specifically there's urgent business, made more so by the fact I have been out of touch for the last three years."

"Out of touch? Have you been sick?"

"In a manner of speaking. What I need is news."

"Exactly what manner of speaking'? And just how much news? How out of touch HAVE you been? A lot has happened in the last three years, you know."

Miss Gleyzia gave Luna an exasperated look, though it didn't hide a deep fatigue. Then she turned and looked into the fire.

"So I've noticed on my way here. How long has the Barrier been down? What happened at the Valley of Dragons? No. Look, just assume I've been in a three-year coma and give me the big events? Details can come later."

Luna gave Miss Gleyzia a long look. 

Gleyzia did her best to look and act reassuring."Ha! Last important news I had was that the Demon Dragon King was trying to have your little sister killed — or recruited. I don't think he had made his mind up completely."

"Okay, then, the big events in a nutshell, Gaav and Phibrizzo are dead — I mean really and truly dead, along with all Mazoku of note in Gaav's faction — Sairaag is doubly a wasteland, Flagoon is gone, and so is the Monster Races' Barrier around our lands. The world was invaded by Darkstar. Fortunately, she was also killed before doing TOO much damage, but the Gold Dragons were exterminated as a race before she was put down. Except for the Gold Dragons, I guess most of it passes for good news Oh, and we don't know what happened to the original Claire Bible. It may have been destroyed by Gaav just before he died. Also, the Greater Beast and her Lieutenant have been meddling with things. A lot. I can't figure out what their game is, and I doubt anyone else has either."

Miss Gleyzia looked glum. "And what about your sister? How is she?"

"We don't talk much" Luna hesitated.

"Well?"

Luna sighed melodramatically. "She's fine, I guess. Though what passes for fine' with her..."

Gleyzia was disapproving. "Spare me the editorials, for now, please? What has she done? We can discuss your philosophical differences with her later."

"Okay. Okay! But it's all second hand, so don't blame me for any inaccuracies. Hmmm She's notorious. She survived Gaav, then discovered Phibrizzo also had it in for her. She survived that, too, but only by resorting to the Lord of Nightmares - again. Gah! Talk about a cure worse then the disease. The little idiot! It's a miracle we still have a world to worry about! To my undying astonishment, she has also somehow resisted the best attempts by the Mazoku to recruit her. Can you believe that of a black sorceress? You'd think they'd have found a way to coerce her, especially when she has that hair-trigger temper and indifference to innocent bystanders and collateral damage. Not really too far from a Mazoku herself. And she is of course responsible for all of the other big news I just recited, as well as the destruction of countless small towns and villages and who knows how many casualties." She sighed. "Though I guess I kinda hafta credit her job of handling DarkStar. Even if I had to hold a fate worse than lingering death over her head to make her do it."

"I noted a few editorials in there, even after requesting they be left out. But we'll let that pass. I hope much of that venom was Cepheed's Incarnation, and not Lina's human big sister."

Luna was about to protest, but the elder woman cut her short with an upheld hand. "Later. Now what of the Golds how long since?" She choked a bit on the last.

"Two years and a bit. As far as I can find out, they attacked some viciously powerful gods from the Overworld who were tied into the whole Darkstar invasion. It was a slaughter. I I really don't know why they did it. Only one Gold Dragon — a novice priestess named Filia - defied the will of the Supreme Elder, and survived the whole sorry, unhappy business."

Both stared soulfully, silently into the fire for a long time. Each had known a fair number of Gold Dragons. Finally Miss Gleyzia tossed back the last of her cooling tea and spoke up.

"Miss Filia? Amazing. Such a straight little arrow I wonder what made her the one to break the mould?"

"Well, she's the one Cepheed sent his vision to. Maybe Wait! You know her? How? She's lived Outside the Barrier all her life!"

"Hmph! Miss Luna, stopping me was way beyond that Barrier's design specs."

"What do you mean? You're just a wandering sorceress, and that barrier was built to keep out all but the strongest servants of the Gods. Oh. Oh, dear. You're NOT just a wandering sorceress who occasionally tutors Holy Knights are you?" Luna was developing a serious sweatdrop.

"There is much we have to speak of. That's one of them. May I impose on you tonight?"

"I, well, I suppose I mean, well, my place is a small bachelor pad. It'll be cramped"

Miss Gleyzia laughed and some of the hanging tension evaporated.

"Oh, no, no! I was going to stay at an inn tonight - a nice one with baths. Please come as well — I'll pay — so we can talk as long as needed." She reached into her pack and pulled out a heavy sack. It clinked and clattered, speaking of gems and gold inside.

"Here's the payment for the meal. Keep the change."

Luna was shocked "Are you feeling okay? That's an insane tip. And I'm NOT a charity case, even if I am waitressing."

"You'll need it. I hope you have vacation time coming. The tip' is to cover expenses."

"What?!?"

"I'm afraid your other job has just gained precedence, Lady Knight."

"What's going on? Cepheed hasn't dropped me any hints"

"He was probably waiting for me to get it together. Drop Him a prayer in the morning."

"That's an impious way of putting it."

"Miss Luna, Cepheed has never been MY god. It's not impious if I put things that way.'

Sheesh, who WAS her god, then? Wait a sec

"You're trying to change the subject. Just what is going on?"

Miss Gleyzia turned deadly serious. "I'm afraid we're about to experience the old curse may you live in interesting times' firsthand. To start off I'm going to have to tell you of the Gold Dragons' ugly side. They certainly won't have, and it will help you with your first project. Then I have to tell you about a painful skeleton or two out of History's closet that are surely about to come back and haunt us all." She got up and started putting on her cloak.

"I'll let you settle things with Master Javvers, was it? Then meet me at The Royal Zefeerian in half an hour. Umm, it is still around? It was, a decade ago when I was last here."

"That's the best inn in Zefeeria City!"

"Good, it'll be sure to have _hot_ baths." Gleyzia whisked out the door.

Luna was left holding several thousand golds, her mind awhirl.

Gleyzia suddenly popped her head back in. "Oh, yes. You might want to start thinking of how to make up with your sister. From the sound of things, you should think more highly of her. And I'm sure she'll eventually turn up at the heart of things. I'd say she's turned out surprisingly well considering." Miss Gleyzia disappeared.

Luna, feeling very bent out of shape, let out an incredulous groan. Turned out surprisingly well'? Infuriating little Almost-a-Mazoku _Lina_? And something was brewing big enough to drag BOTH Inverses into the heart of things? She collapsed into a heap.

She was still in a heap when Master Javvers came out to finish shutting things down.

"Umm, something wrong?" He prodded at her with a toe.

Luna stayed in her heap but extended one arm out, index finger raised in question.

"Ahehe, heh...Sir? How much vacation time do I have backlogged?"

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NEXT CHAPTER: Just who is it that has Miss Gleyzia so worried?


	2. North Wind Brewing

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a couple of quick points! First, the only arguably non-canon element of my greater tale is that ALL Gold Dragons, not just Cepheed-worshiping ones, bought it at the Temple of the Ancient Dragons. It makes Filia's affinity for Val more understandable, and is rather more dramatic. Secondly, I have presumed to shorten the Dragon-God names (call it the dialect of Silvers, if you like). Cepheed is still Cepheed; Orpheed is the Dragon God for the element Earth, and Aelpheed the new name for the Dragon God of Air. The Water Dragon King (Aqualord Ragradia) isn't used as much and will still go by those names. The others' full names, if written three or four times a paragraph, would take over the text. Lastly, I use 'Saillune' for the city and nation, 'Seyruun' for the Royal Family's name. Thanks, and enjoy!

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CHAPTER ONE

North Wind Brewing

It was the night of the new moon, a little less than a week after Miss Gleyzia caught up with Luna in Zefeeria City. The skies over the Valley of Dragons and Dragon's Peak were as cloudy and drizzling as most everywhere else in that corner of the world. The Valley had become a much-changed place since the last visit by humans, more than three years past.

The most obvious change was that any new visitor would have wondered why it was ever called the Valley of Dragons. There had been a time not that long before, when it almost would have been possible to walk across the valley from dragonback to dragonback. The valley had long been home to one of the larger tribes of Golden Dragons – most, in fact, of that race that had lived inside the now collapsed Monster Races' Barrier. Living with them had been many rather less civilized Black Dragons, which might best be compared to peasants living in the demesne of their Gold Dragon overlords. To humans, the Valley had earned its name because of the multitude of the great beasts that lived there, and nothing more.

To Dragons, the meaning went a lot deeper. For millennia, dragons had been the most prominent race living in the world. The humans had been just another of the innumerable short-lived races crawling about, eking out a living under the watchful and protective eye of the Dragon Races: fodder for the unending battle between the Mazoku and Ryozoku, the Dragon's name for themselves. The Ryozoku came in three types. At the top were the civilized' races, like Golds and Ancients, who built cities and temples, developed complex cultures and hierarchies, and sought ever newer and greater skills and knowledge. Then there were the Thinking Dragons', like the Blacks who had shared Dragon Valley, who had language and organization but never bothered to advance themselves beyond that. Lastly were the many Beast Dragons', little more than smart animals, such as the Lake and Stone varieties, who could follow commands and fight, but not do much else beyond normal day-to-day animal activities.

The Valley, and Dragon's Peak at its heart, had been the neutral meeting place for the varied, and often rival, civilized and thinking Ryozoku tribes. It had, in a sense, been the United Tribes headquarters. To the Dragons, it had been their Parliament. There any Dragon could go and be heard by all that cared to listen. Councils were offered, ideas were discussed, alliances forged and broken, decisions made. After the War of the Monster's Resurrection it had also become the logical place for the grave of the Water Dragon King, and that which remained of him, the Claire Bible. Even with the Monster Races' Barrier blocking off the Valley to any Dragons in the outer world, it had been a political and spiritual heart for all Dragons.

Now, a first time visitor would have scratched their head and wondered if the past clouds of dragons' were just fanciful tales. The silent sky was empty. To Dragons' minds, their sacrosanct valley had been hopelessly defiled when, three years before, Gaav had attacked a party of human adventurers. The Claire Bible, the priceless and holy remnant of the Water Dragon King, had been destroyed. Dragon's Peak was now the gravestone of a Mazoku Dark Lord, not a Holy Ryozoku God. Most of the valley's inhabitants had left soon after. The Golds of the Valley had all died a year later, in some futile, suicidal battle in the Outer World. The few Blacks who had lingered had left shortly after that, and only the eldest visited now and then, remembering past glories. One such patrolled even now, drifting lazily through the falling mists, lost in thought. None of the ancient civilized Dragon races were left, and it was humans who were inheriting their mantle. It was powerful humans whom thinking Ryozoku must respect, and fear, now. The shame was almost too hard to bear. The Black let out a melancholy sort of sigh as he banked for a final pass along the length of the Valley.

Suddenly, near the Peak, clouds roiled, bulged downward, and finally tore. There was an impression of a stretching bubble, refracting the image of stars above. It changed abruptly, darkening, and the stars it showed now were not of this world. The old Black crash-dived, wondering what this could mean. In a final flash of brilliance, the bubble burst down and outward as Something came through

The Black Dragon gulped. He was well over a thousand years old, and knew whom – _what,_ rather – had just appeared in the air above him. Not a high-ranking Mazoku Lord, it was to a Black, something both infinitely worse and better. And if one were openly back, the other four would be along soon. The world had just become a much more dangerously unpredictable place. Before It could notice him, the Black teleported himself as far as he could, some twenty miles north and then winged hard for the Outer World. He did not want to get caught up in whatever They would do. Not, at least, until he had no choice in the matter. And, to think that only a few moments before, he had been musing there weren't any civilized Dragons left

If you could call what had just reappeared civilized

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Twenty miles away, the newcomer chuckled at the retreating Black Dragon. Firestar the Silver Dragon folded his gleaming wings and dived, which he followed with several jubilant loop-the-loops. It was so good to be back in his native world! His thousand-year voluntary' exile was over. That thought brought his joy to a quick end. There was only one way the barrier seals that had kept him locked out could have disappeared and though he cordially loathed Gold Dragons, their death was an affront to the Ryozoku Race that must be avenged

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You are absolutely right, dear comrade . The mind-speech was a light touch on his mind, a renewal of a link he had missed for a millenium.

Firestar crowed a little, and replied both in mind and aloud. "Coldwind! Tis good to hear your voice again! Where are you?"

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On the ledge of Dragon's Peak. Do come down and switch form before someone detects you, and then we can talk . Coldwind's rich voice held an edge of amusement, softening her rebuke.

Firestar dived again, then backwinged, settling into the notched ledge that surrounded Dragon's Peak. There was a flash and swirling of light as his form condensed down from that of a rather large Dragon to that of a rather large human. Coldwind stepped out from the shadows. The two of them clasped forearms, in the time-honored and ancient greeting of comrades-in-arms

"You look well, Lord Firestar. I hope your exuberant display hasn't warned anyone more than that stupid Black that you're back."

"I do doubt me of it. Dost think he will spread the news?"

"No. He obviously wants as little to do with us as possible, and if he told others we are back, he could very well have the opposite effect: to convince all his kind, especially the young hotbloods, to rally to us."

"Indeed? How so, Lady?"

"The Dragons are now leaderless, Lord Firestar. More on that later: it is too long and involved a story to want to tell more than once. I shall present it once we are all gathered in Council. Simply put, though, it is truly up to us now to save this world for the Dragons and to protect the humans from their own follies."

"And what of the others? What passed after I chose mine own exile from this world, rather than face the drumhead trial the other Ryozoku had prepared for us?"

"Our Lord Orihalcos was left unsentenced. Since he carries the Will of Orpheed around with him, they couldn't come up with a way to punish him and keep It around. He voluntarily withdrew from the affairs of this world and has spent the last thousand years puttering around in a pocket dimension of his own devising. He's the one who summoned me here to greet everyone and reopen the Argent Council. He has to be careful not to tip off Cepheed and Aelpheed too soon. Master Graystone chose self-exile, like you. He decided to offer his services in the world of DeathFog, and left but two days after you. I think he hoped to find you there, since we didn't know where you went that was unkindly done, by the way."

"My apologies. Warmaking is mine chiefest talent, chosen as I was to be Gaav's nemesis. I departed for DarkStar's universe. She had already devoured Volfeed by then, and I felt mine skills would best serve those who still lived to fight against Her. In truth, I had little expectation – or hope – of long surviving against such a terrible foe. So I spoke not of my plans to anyone and departed forthwith. I rather disapprove, in hindsight, though I was despondent at the time and not thinking clearly. Mayhap that is the reason, but it is admittedly no excuse. What of yourself?"

Coldwind looked ready to spit, but settled on a sneer instead "Faugh! I chose to face the trial and defend our actions. I thought I could convince enough Ryozoku that we were in the right so that we would be acquitted by a narrow margin. Of course, since they formalized your exile by imposing barrier seals against you, you must know I underestimated their spite. We were all found guilty, by a nearly unanimous decision."

Firestar shook his head in disapproval. "You had too great a faith in those fools. And what was your sentence?"

"That was where their true venom showed. I should have gone into exile like you and Graystone. It would have served them right, to lose their Warden of the Veils. At least it would have been interesting. My sentence was to sit eternal vigil over our dear, mostly ineffectual acquaintance Lei Magnus in his private icecube at the North Pole. Like he could do anything! So, I have sat in a snowbank for a good thousand years splitting my time between watching over a prisoner who can't escape and certainly doesn't need anything, and keeping tabs on the Veils that separate our world from the others."

Firestar had to restrain a chuckle "Lady, it sounds as if Cepheed, Aelpheed, and that faithless bastard Supreme Elder sought your death through boredom"

Coldwind actually did snicker a little "Oh I kept myself amused. Her Ladyship the Greater Beast had set a very minor Mazoku named Chirk, to watch over me watching over her Dark Lord-Popsicle. Whenever I got too bored, I tried to catch the little bugger and wring his neck. Not too hard, though he was company of a sort. And then, at the end, the Veils actually got exciting. First several Outworlders began crossing back and forth about twenty years ago"

"Ah, Almayce and his band?"

"You knew them?"

"Nay, not well. I accompanied one of the other bands trying to hold off DarkStar. Though once I did meet Almayce's comrade Erulogos, and found him to be a likeable fellow"

"Hmmmph! Well, If I had known what they were planning, I would have broken my sentence for longer and hunted them down. By the time I had finally worked out what it was they were building at the Forbidden Islands, it was too late to do anything. I could only hope they somehow succeeded. And while I was off chasing Outworlders, the idiot young King of Dilss attacked Magnus' prison with his whole army! The outcome, of course, was a forgone conclusion. The army was lost, and Dilss now seems to be under a curse and in the Mazoku pocket."

"What else?"

Coldwind became all at once elated, angry, avid and worried "Well, three times in the last five years, the Veil was not breached. It was just shoved aside. I picked up the wrinkles around the holes, but could not sense what was in the holes or what came through. The last, and strongest, time was just before I felt the recoil of DarkStar's destruction."

Firestar gasped, his face reflecting both revulsion and excitement. "But that can only mean"

She just nodded. "Yes. Our worst fear. It seems a meddling human Nexus has finally achieved its potential and found a means of drawing Chaos into our world. It's a miracle we haven't already fallen back into the Void. The risk if we allow it to continue is formidable. We must put it to an end."

He turned thoughtful. "But, if we can find that human turn it to our way of thinking our mandate from Orpheed could at last be accomplished! The dark side of the plaguey humans could be purged. They could no longer disrupt the proper ordering of this world and the Mazoku could be finally be destroyed right down to the last, least, most insignificant little worm of their number!"

Her eyes narrowed "And if this Nexus isn't amenable to our offer? Or revolts and joins with the Mazoku like that miserable priest a thousand years ago?"

Firestar looked off into the cloudy sky. "Then we must force it by whatever means necessary. If that should also fail well such power in the hands of an irresponsible human, or in Mazoku employ, simply cannot be allowed. As you said, such must be put to an end."

Coldwind's smile turned vicious. "Then we are agreed. Orihalcos feels similarly. All that awaits now is Graystone's approval, and he certainly won't disagree."

He stared at her curiously "Are we not forgetting someone? What of Frostrime?"

She actually did spit this time "The traitorous, insolent halfbreed cannot be found, despite every effort Orihalcos has made. She dropped off the face of the Earth just before my sentence was handed down."

Firestar was surprised by the open hatred in Coldwind's voice "Traitorous? How so? She was Ordained to our Council as an external brake, it is true, maybe even originally as a spy for those who opposed Orpheed's vision, but she always served loyally."

"Bah! You left before she was overcome by what we had brought to pass. As only a half-breed Silver Dragon who had once served the Water Dragon King, the passing of that God almost unhinged her. She felt she could have prevented it if she had taken a harder stance in our Council, or spilled the beans before things went as far as they did. She pleaded guilty at our arraignment, then copped some sort of deal with Cepheed, Aelpheed, and that Aqua character that manifested from the Claire Bible. She never faced the rest of the trial, and disappeared. No one knows what happened to her, except that she seemed to get off easy. Most of the Ryozoku, including the Supreme Elder, clamored against the backroom deal Faugh! Hopefully, she's long dead."

Coldwind stalked off to sulk. Firestar shook his head, and squatted down to toss a few pebbles off the ledge. He had never actually liked Frostrime, as she was not a full-blooded Silver Dragon and had never committed herself to Orpheed's vision as fully as rest of the Argent Council. But he never hated her, not the way Coldwind did – the way she always had, in fact, even before they had been Ordained into the light of Orpheed's Grace.

It was too bad things had turned out the way they had a thousand years ago. It had never been the Council's intention to start the War of the Monster's Resurrection, but to all the other Ryozoku, horrified by the carnage that had resulted as well as the loss of the Water Dragon King, it had seemed that way. The five Argent Councilors were too powerful to deal with by direct means. So the Ryozoku, the Claire Bible's sentient manifestation Aqua, and the two remaining Gods had ordered the disbanding of the Council, and the arrest and trial of its members for War Crimes'. It was the only term they could come up with. Gross Negligence' and Criminal Endangerment', while closer to the truth (in Firestar's mind, at least), just couldn't convey what the Ryozoku wanted to convey in their outrage. So, they had pulled War Crimes' out of their ahem, out of the air. That was when Firestar had decided a fair trial was impossible, and left. Now it was a thousand years later. A new human Nexus had manifested. Perhaps the Argent Council's vindication and ultimate victory over the forces of Chaos represented by the Mazoku was finally at hand

A flicker in the clouds cut Firestar's thoughts short. As before, the clouds tore, a dimensional rift opened, a flash and a Silver Dragon, radiant with the Inner Light their Ordainment had granted, was suddenly soaring in the sky. Firestar jumped up and waved to his old, old friend. They had been comrades since the original war of Gods and Monsters, many thousands of years past, when the world had formed.

"Graystone! Welcome home!"

Graystone banked down, landed, and transformed. 

"Well met, dear comrade." Forearms clasped, followed by a backslapping hug.

Coldwind, apparently having gotten over her earlier snit, sauntered over and greeted Graystone as well. Then she settled into the lighthearted manner she had when formal doings of the Council were underway. Firestar could only shake his head. Coldwind could slip from killing rage to bantering light humour at the drop of a hat. It was a trait that had always made him nervous.

"Come. I've already called Orihalcos, that we're all here. He'll be along in a few hours. The Council Chamber below Dragon's Peak is still sealed and fully warded. We can retire there, and exchange histories. The three of us are a quorum, so I can officially reconvene the Council" she smiled "IF, of course, you gentlemen agree?"

"Of course, Lady. Lead on."

All three winked out.

Far down in the valley, a tiny little manifestation also winked out. If any had seen it, it would have looked like a small, wretched and deformed little goblin. None had seen it, but it had seen everything.

The Valley of Dragons was once again empty and silent, except for the gently sifting sound of drizzle on bare rock.

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Lying just west of the Cattato Mountains is the northernmost human Kingdom, known as Dilss. It was relatively large – about the same size as Zefeeria, in fact, which meant only Saillune and Elmikia are larger – and prosperous. It had a reasonably sized army, wonderful weather except in winter, and earned considerable wealth from a multitude of mines in the Cattato foothills. The harsh winters meant it was not too heavily populated, and as a result much of the wealthy nation's common folk were considerably better off than in most other lands. All in all, its citizens should be happy and carefree except during the worst January weather.

Unfortunately that was not the case. The King of Dilss had been an ambitious, arrogant, bold – most would say reckless – youth. Some twenty-five years earlier, he had decided it was within his power to heroically rid the world of a terrible threat. So, he had gathered his army, hired dozens of sorcerers, bought the best armaments in huge numbers, and marched northward. There, he had planned to smash open the icy prison of Lei Magnus and destroy the supposedly helpless dark sorcerer, who held the piece of Shabranuigdo that had been resurrected a thousand years earlier. Victorious, he would then have marched home triumphant, the slayer of a seventh of the Dark Lord, a Hero for all time.

Of course, no one just marches in and kills a piece of Shabranuigdo. And Lei Magnus might be imprisoned, but he was conscious and had possession of all his powers. The King did eventually come back, but defeated and bloodied, his glorious army destroyed, himself placed under a terrible curse that grew to overtake his whole land. No one, except perhaps the King himself, knew what the curse was. But there was ample evidence for it. And the most obvious was the Black Hall. The huge domed building had been constructed almost overnight, and lay at the heart of the Royal Palace. No one ever seemed to enter it or leave. No one even went close to it, since anyone who did was overcome with mad terror. It was a dark stain at the heart of a once proud kingdom, a source of forbidding and grim, dark power.

Tain vakh Uriel was quite unimpressed by all this. He crept through the shadows of the palace grounds in Dilss City, one eye on the Black Hall, the other scanning for any guards. His black robes blended into the dark of the moonless night. A few hundred leagues to the east, it was drizzling in an abandoned valley and a Black Dragon was just about to get the fright of his life. In Dilss, however, the skies were clear. Tain looked up at the uncaring stars coldly flickering, and silently mouthed an oath. The northern lights were starting to build. Tain chose to dash across the final courtyard before the flaring airborne curtains could turn the night sky bright with pink and green, and barely made it. He eased into the shadowed nook between a half-pillar and the Black Hall wall. All of a sudden, he felt the horror that everyone talked about. It washed over him in waves of fear, loathing and despair. Tain, however, was not a normal person. He really rather enjoyed the sensations, and leaned into the building so he could feel them more strongly. Silently he searched the grounds for any sign he had been spotted.

Having assured himself he was still undetected, he looked upward. The arched window he was interested in loomed fifty feet above. Tain decided he could afford to wait a while and see if the northern lights would die down. This late in the year, they shouldn't last for long. Curling himself into as small a package as he could, he hunkered down to the ground and wedged himself carefully between a black basalt pediment and the black marble wall. He angled his head to carefully study his climb in the unexpected light, and smiled. Whoever had built this place depended on the dark magic it emanated to defeat any aspiring intruders. The wall would be an easy climb no challenge at all. 

He waited almost a quarter of an hour before things darkened enough for him to proceed. Reaching up to his first handhold, he began his ascent. Now, it only remained to find a good hiding place inside

* * * * * * * * * *

The Black Hall was almost entirely occupied by a single vast room. The décor leaned heavily in the direction of black, but was tastefully offset with gilt gold trim, gold curtains, and gold cressets. The furniture was exclusively constructed of fine ebony and mahogany, trimmed and inlaid with a selection of rich yellow and golden woods. This would all have been very elegant, in a dark gothic sort of way, if not for the lingering sense of oppression. That, and the wildly squirming shadows.

A young man walked in from the main palace, quietly shutting and locking the Hall doors once he was inside. He was fine-boned, with the bearing of a High King, and was the obvious proprietor of the hall: his robes were black with gold trim. He was not, however, related in any way to the blood of the Royal Family of Dilss. He just owned them, body and soul.

He waved his arm in a wide arc, and the huge central chandelier, along with dozens of torches and braziers, and hundreds of candleholders flared into life. The hall became a flickering display of shadows, golden firelight, and cold white twinkling from the innumerable small crystals in the stonework. The young man smiled quite contentedly, enjoying the effect and the opulence.

He clapped his hands several times.

"Come, come! Out with you all, unless you have critical messages! I am expecting an important visitor shortly, and if she finds you lingering here, I won't be responsible for what happens. Or rather, I will, and you won't like it" His voice was perhaps just a notch higher than would have been expected in a male of his build.

The squirming shadows disappeared, but not before one skittered forward to materialize into the form of a horned and scarred little goblin.

"High Lord? You wished to know immediately they came through just after midnight this very evening."

The Lord raised an eyebrow. "Did they, now? Well, it will take them a few months to catch up on things Well done, Drizzolt. Now begone before my guest shows up."

The little goblin bowed deeply, then winked out with a hissing pop. The Lord strode over to his vast desk and sat down in a deep leather chair. He idly flipped through the mountains of paperwork, waiting. Something nagged at the corner of his attention and then he had it. Up near the ceiling. A very nasty, very cold smile inched into existence on his face. _Oh, very good, he's done it, and even I didn't notice right away_

He decided to let it slide. Shifting position, he assumed a regal pose and, with a finger twitch, lowered the light level in the room from blazing to merely adequate.

A moment later there was another hiss-pop. A very attractive woman with blue hair had materialized on the other side of the desk. The Lord gestured at one of the chairs opposite.

"Dolfie, dear. So good to see you again!"

She nodded perfunctorily "Dynast."

"Please, Lord of the Deeps, have a seat. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

Deep Sea Dolphin sat down and glanced around. "The pleasure is all yours, I'm sure. Are we secure? I don't want the Greater Beast, and especially her infuriating sidekick, to hear what we needed to discuss."

Dynast Grawshellar cocked his head a little. "Dolfie, you have my assurances that nothing we say will reach Zelas' or Xelloss' ears. Sherra may be listening in, but she's loyal. Now, what is so urgent that you actually left your ocean bottom to come to my humble northern abode?"

Dolphin looked around and gestured broadly "Humble? Are you joking? Even Hellmaster never went this far in self-aggrandizing, ridiculous display. Though his temple' and that giant soul crystal at Sairaag certainly came close."

"You saw it?"

"Yes. He invited me over to show it off. Not you? What a surprise! Ha! He hated your guts. And I'm here to discuss Lina Inverse. What else?"

"What about her?"

"What are we going to do about her? She's killing us off one by one."

"She's hardly going out of her way to do it. Don't bother her, and she will ignore you. Go after her, and odds are things will turn out differently – like they did for Gaav and Phibrizzo"

Dolphin frowned "There's truth in what you say, of course but" She got up and began pacing. "Damn! It's the principle of the thing! A scrawny little human sorceress getting away with what she has! It's intolerable. Humans must be kept in their place, but at the rate she's going, OUR place is going to become theirs!"

Dynast just smiled in that little way he had again. "Dolfie, Dolfie, Dolfie calm down. Inverse is just a freak of nature. Lay low for sixty years and she'll be dead of old age. Then we can go back to business as usual." He got up to head to his little bar. "Care for a drink? I've got a vintage Zefeerian White"

Dolphin whirled on Dynast "Don't get patronizing with me, Grawshellar" She paused thoughtfully "Though I will take your offer of a drink." She gathered her thoughts "It isn't that simple, and you know it. Will Lina only live a normal span? How can we know? No human has ever been so linked to Mother before. What effect will that have? And Zelas and her Lieutenant have been actively helping that redheaded wench for five years now. What is Greater Beast's game? I worry she knows something and is making a power play and that she may be able to manipulate Lina against us"

Dynast poured out the drinks. "Hmmm, you may be right Lina Inverse, the Hound for the Huntress?" He walked over and handed a glass to Dolphin.

"Thanks. And, yes, that is precisely my concern that she'll use Lina to do the hard work and then move in for the kill."

"I see, Dolphin. Well, seeing as you are already grumpy, do let me add to your worries! Graystone and Firestar are back. Just this evening, in fact." His tone was unconcerned.

Dolphin dropped her glass. It shattered on the stone floor. "You can toss off news like THAT with a smile? Are you mad, Grawshellar?" Then she thought about it for a moment, and sighed "I suppose it was really only a matter of time, once the Golds were gone and the Barrier Seals crumbled." Her tone sharpened again. "But that means all five of them are at large, and there's only three of us now! And what does it have to do with Lina?"

Dynast raised both eyebrows in sardonic humour "Tsk, tsk, Dolfie. Surely they don't worry you that much? For one thing, as far as I can tell, they're only four, now. Frostrime has been missing for a thousand years, and has probably renounced her membership in the Argent Council after its last debacle. She may even be dead, though I doubt it. And the others may be our matches in power, but they are so predictable! They won't be hunting us down directly. After all, there is a major Catalyst on the loose. They'll want her."

Dolphin suddenly smiled "Oh, that's too rich!" She chuckled evilly "And they don't know what they're getting into do they? Lina Inverse is NOT the sort to join with their ilk. But they don't know that, yet, do they?"

Dynast strode back around his desk and seated himself, once again gesturing to a chair for Dolphin. "Precisely. They'll take some time to feel out the ground, then try to coerce her. If we play our cards right, she may be forced to come to us for protection, just like the last Catalyst they tried to manhandle. At the very least, she may do us the favour of killing one or two Silvers out of sheer self-preservation if she can. I certainly can't imagine a better use for Chaos than killing Champions of Order."

Dolphin seated herself again, all business. "Wouldn't that be a shame." Then she gave Dynast Grawshellar a hard look. "So"

"Yes?"

"Who gets her? If she does come to us, that is?"

Dynast looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmmm that is a problem, isn't it? Whoever gets her is going to be a serious problem for the other two of us who don't. And Zelas already has a handle on her through Xelloss more wine?"

"Yes please With both of them, she'd be troublesome for even a wholly resurrected Shabranuigdo. Maybe that is what she's trying for by helping Lina so much?"

Grawshellar poured out a fresh glass and handed it to her. "Oh well, there's not much we can do either way. Why don't we just let things play out? For a while at least. It could be fun to see what happens when Coldwind runs into Lina for the first time"

Dolphin took a long sip, thinking hard. "You like watching half a continent smashed to rubble? Well, OK, that might be fun. But I'm not convinced. Lina is clearly a threat to us. I don't even want to think what could happen if the Silvers coerce her. Failing that, she would most likely hook up with Zelas Metallium, which could be even worse. She may even manage to avoid both fates, but then she'd be a Void-summoning loose cannon roaming the world, which would be a flaming nuisance for the next sixty years, at least. Maybe a lot more. Unless Mother gets bored with being summoned every couple of years and just swallows the world whole. I, for one, don't want to lose my playground yet. Do you? Isn't that why we opposed DarkStar's attempt to End things here? Thanks, but I'd still rather Lina had a fatal accident, and soon. We can deal with the Silvers later."

Dynast sighed. "I'll not persuade you otherwise, will I?"

Dolphin tossed back the last of her glass and got up. "Nope. But don't worry, I don't plan on facing her down myself. I don't want to be on the receiving end of Mother's wrath like Phibby was."

Dynast got up as well "Just so long as that is understood. Luck be with you." He offered his hand.

Dolphin took it and shook gravely. "Just don't you be getting in my way. Zelas' meddling will be enough. Please don't forget that, unlike you, she and I have most of our minions left."

Dynast smiled again, dryly. "Of course. The last thing I'd want is you getting peeved enough with me to throw in with Metallium. Ugh. Don't worry Dolfie. I've got my own fish to fry."

"Care to tell me what? And I don't particularly care for that last metaphor."

"I'm hurt but I will tell you: it's the Seyruuns."

"You worry about the strangest things, Dynast." Dolphin winked out.

Dynast Grawshellar sat back down then called in his General. Sherra had been waiting in an anteroom. As soon as she came in, she glanced about, seeming to look for something.

"Sherra, you heard everything?"

She focused on her Dark Lord.

"Yes. My Lord, I'm inclined to agree with Deep Sea Dolphin though. Lina is a problem Are we really going to let her persist in meddling? And what if she does end up living as long as the likes of Rezo and Magnus?"

Dynast sighed and rubbed at an eyebrow. "Sherra, please. Lina has done us more favours than harm. She stopped DarkStar and triggered the deaths of that traitor Gaav and that arrogant, autocratic twerp Phibrizzo, freeing MY hand. She's going to thoroughly occupy Orpheed's council of mutant Dragons, KEEPING my hands free. She is a wonderful tool. Zelas no doubt understands that, too, though Dolphin clearly doesn't. I prefer Lina alive, until she becomes a direct personal threat. Which, I expect, will not happen before she grows old and disappears. Especially with both Dolphin and the Silvers out for her soul, or her blood." He gave her a penetrating look. "Yes, she messes with our plans, but not in any way that can't be overcome with a little planning and patience. Understood?"

Sherra swallowed softly before answering "Yes, My Lord"

"Good." Dynast was all smiles again "Now, Seyruuns. You already have your orders, but let's recap a little:.Prince Philionel is some sort of genius. He seems to be going about in the right way what the Gold Dragons always did wrong." His tone turned sarcastic. "He's setting a shining example of peace, love and prosperity through armed goodwill, forthright diplomacy, and open, honest but firm policy." Shaking his head, he continued in a more serious vein. "Gah. It sounds ridiculous and hopelessly cliché, but it's true, nonetheless. And, since we Mazoku are sustained by violence, hatred, despair and ill-will, I'm sure you can see the problem. Especially if it spreads to other human lands"

Sherra, who had resumed her uneasy searching of the room as Dynast spoke, suddenly stood up, long blade drawn. "Excuse me my Lord, I may be wrong but I could swear there is some sort of intruder in the room." She was staring hard up into the nooks of the vaulted ceiling

Dynast laughed heartily and waved off her interruption. "Put that away, Sherra. Nicely done! Not even Dolphin noticed"

She was incredulous "You knew there was a spy in here? And let it listen in on everything? What if it's working for the Greater Beast?"

Dynast raised both eyebrows. "He's not. He's working for me, unless I am sadly mistaken." He turned and raised his head toward the ceiling. "I daresay you have impressed me! Even I took a few moments to notice your presence when I first arrived! Do come down so I can see you and introduce you to my Lieutenant!"

There was a brief pause, and then a flicker of motion. With a twirl and a flourish, Tain Uriel jumped down from where he had been hiding among the ceiling vaults. He landed into a deep genuflection and bowed his head in respect.

"My Lord, may I assume I've passed the test?"

Dynast nodded. "Sherra, please allow me to introduce Tain vakh Uriel. You'll be working with him. A human, admittedly, but an unusual one." He turned to Tain "How DO you do that? This place should have terrified you into fleeing, and even if you resisted it, you should have been found by my minions."

Tain glanced up and smiled grimly. His eyes were flat. "Easy, My Lords. As far as I can tell, the Gods forgot to give me a soul. Or, if I have one, it's broken." He chuckled. "I'm a true soulless bastard. It's hard for anything to detect my presence magically or astrally. The rest is just the skills of my profession. Even Mazoku aren't in the habit of looking upwards and as for the wards on this place, my job is death, terror, and despair. I LIKE those feelings."

Grawshellar looked back to Sherra, who relaxed and sheathed her weapon. "Do get up and take a seat Tain. Sherra, as I'm sure you recognize, this gentleman is an Assassin. Perhaps the very best."

Tain, seating himself, spoke up "Definitely the best now, My Lord"

Dynast lifted one of his expressive eyebrows "Whatever happened to your master? The one who recommended you in the first place?"

Tain smiled again, all teeth "As he was explaining this job to me, I was cleaning my nails. The nailfile slipped." He paused a moment, enjoying the joke.

Sherra obliged him "And?"

"Tragically, it flew right through his left eye and into his brain. I fear he died instantly." He seemed to think a moment, then feigned surprise "My goodness! Why, I do believe that would mean the only people who know I exist or what I'm doing are sitting at this table! How remarkably convenient for all concerned."

Sherra smiled a little "I think I actually like this human, My Lord Grawshellar. Impertinent, but his sense of humour is most refreshing." 

"Now that introductions have been dispensed with, I'd like to get on with business before the sun comes up and I must resume my duties as Dilss Kingdom's Chief Advisor."

"Tain, as a human, especially one undetectable with magic, you will be able to operate easily and openly in places where a Mazoku cannot, like the capitals of Saillune and Elmikia. To start with I want you in Saillune. See if there are any factions amenable to an assisted change in government. If that unsubtle rutting bull Gaav managed to infiltrate the country, I'm sure we can do better." He paused in thought for a moment. "To ease communication, you will be joined by a minor servant of mine named Drizzolt. He is skilled enough at keeping a low profile that your unique talents will not be compromised."

Tain smiled. "And of course, he'll be ensuring my end of any bargain is kept. I agree to these terms. Now what is to be my reward?" His tone was an open suggestion that he had something already in mind.

Dynast smiled a little and indulged him. "What do you think would be fair?"

Tain barely hesitated. "My Lord, my education is hardly thorough, but unless the storytellers I've listened to are mistaken, you have had a couple of openings on your staff since the War of the Resurrection"

"Ambitious aren't you? Well, if that is what you truly wish and you succeed. A servant with your talents might prove useful. Won't granting you Mazoku power make your job somewhat harder, though? You'd become more detectable."

Tain spoke very quietly "My Lord, I am in this profession only because it is the best, and most enjoyably personal way for me to get what I like. As a Mazoku, what I like – death and terror – would be just as easily obtained and even become sustenance. And, just because I don't seem to have a soul doesn't mean I'm not curious what it would be like. A Mazoku one suits me fine." Then he broke into a sharklike smile. "Besides, holding out a reward like that quite guarantees my loyalty, does it not?"

Sherra spoke up again "I really like this fellow, My Lord. Why can't more humans be this agreeable?" She turned to Tain "Are you sure you're not a half-Mazoku? Or maybe some sort of Chimera?"

Tain thoughtfully tapped at his cheek "What an interesting idea... I've never considered that possibility before. But do you know it almost makes sense? Considering my past, that is."

Dynast just shook his head. "Tain, once you are done investigating Saillune, you will rejoin my General and assist her however she may require. Now go. The sun's almost up." 

Sherra looked over at Tain. "I plan on porting into Saillune's neighborhood right away. Care to come along? It'll save you a couple month's journeying from here."

Tain nodded his acceptance of her offer, then stood up and bowed to Lord Dynast. "Thank you, My Lord. You will not be disappointed with my work." He turned to the General. "Shall we, then, Lady?"

Sherra concentrated a moment, then both she and the assassin disappeared with the familiar hiss-pop. Dynast stood up and straightened his robes, waved the lights out, and departed, chuckling quietly.

After the doors to the Black Hall were shut, the darkness soon resumed its swirlings and squirmings as the Demon King of the North's minions gathered to await his further pleasure.

* * * * * * * * * *

****

NEXT CHAPTER: Three of our heroes hook up again. Wait, Zel, how'd you get one of those?

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Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!


	3. Sunshine in Atlass City

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

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* * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER TWO

Sunshine in Atlass City

It was a warm, late May afternoon in Atlass City. For almost two years, the weather just about everywhere had been miserable, always damp and about a season colder than it should be. But today there was a break in the unending dreariness and the citizens had flocked into the streets to savour the rare sunshine. Traffic on every road, the smallest lane to the widest boulevard, seemed to be at a standstill. Every marketplace and square was packed to overflowing. Most businesses and craftworks had closed their doors since every labourer and commoner seemed to have taken the day off. The cartloads of raw materials that fuel industry couldn't make it through the crowds anyway. A carnival air had gripped the entire city. 

The noise was overwhelming. Every stall owner and curbside vendor was shouting at the top of his or her lungs, trying to get the attention of citizens who had lurked indoors for weeks and were out looking to spend a few coins. Every bard and poet, every puppeteer and street-corner player, was shouting to be heard by their small audiences. Every outdoor entertainer and busker from mime to juggler to sword-eater who had been forced to eke out a living from the shelter of a tavern common room was out plying the trade.

Children raced through the streets, squeezing through the gaps between the crush of adults. They shouted and laughed, jumping in puddles, splattering burlap-clad peasants and silk-draped merchants alike. No one seemed to mind. Everyone was too busy enjoying the rare weather and the impromptu festival to get mad.

Except, it seemed for one.

"Aaaaaagh!" a feminine wail of despair made itself heard over the hubbub in the busiest marketplace in the city. Heads turned and necks craned. Expectations rose. Thieves and cutpurses were thick in such a crowd and a fair number of revelers were expecting the wail signified a stolen coinpouch, a chase, and an all-round entertaining show. Folk shifted about, hoping to glimpse a fleeing footpad and pursuing manservant or bodyguard.

"Aaaagh!" 

The wail echoed again, and the crowd was able to locate the source of their hoped-for show. To their disappointment, there was no thief or chase, only a pair of adventurers standing by the awninged confectioner's cart titled "Sweet-Tooth Samuel's Special Sugary Splendours." Samuel was widely considered the best confectioner and pastry chef in Atlass City. The onlookers waited to see if there would be any more fuss, and, when it was not forthcoming, went back to their business.

At the cart one of the adventurers - the one who had wailed - finally found her voice. "I can't believe it! We're already running low _again_!"

Self-proclaimed Beautiful Sorcery Genius Lina Inverse stood aghast, exasperation and horror written on her face as she tried to see around an astonishing two-armload pile of pastries. A well-loved and much-handled purse in her hand sagged mournfully, perhaps only a quarter full. It seemed almost as if it were trying to apologize.

A second, taller pile of pastries with blue leggings extruded a handsome blonde face, looking down at the sorry little purse.

"Oh no! Do we have enough for Mister Sweet-Tooth Samuel? What about the _Samuel's Sweet Supreme Spicy Cinnamon-Sugarpuff Streudels_ you told me so much about!"

The minimally more important business of gorging on desserts brought Lina out of her state of cashflow-shock. Samuel's Sweet Supremes were worth her very last penny, and she was still a long way from her last penny.

"Don't worry Gourry. We're running low, not out umm, could you get out the coins? I can't seem to reach very well." The disappointed crowd had started moving again. That much fuss over a pastry bill?

Gourry shifted his load to an arm and thigh, freeing a hand. His pile of pastries teetered dangerously while he reached down to fish around in the much shorter Lina's overworked and underpaid coin purse. There were a couple of tense moments — surely something _had_ to tumble? — but Gourry was a master swordsman and naturally had a remarkable instinct for balance. Eventually the coins were found and the bill settled, without any pastry casualties.

Sweet-Tooth Samuel beamed as he closed down his cart and pocketed his small fortune. What luck! He had sold his whole stock and still had most of the afternoon left to drink the profits, rather than having to try and outshout competitors until sunset. He had also spoken with the infamous Lina Inverse. Haha! Something to tell the boys at the pub, when he got there.

He waved goodbye to his benefactors, who were already negotiating their way through the crowd, which parted to let them pass. The swordsman actually had room to turn and wave politely back. Samuel was a little awed — his two customers were so famous that the impenetrable crowd instinctively stepped aside! Then, he realized, fame had nothing to do with it After all, who, dressed in festival finery, would want to get in the way of two tottering ambulatory mountains of sticky, sugar-coated, honey-dripping and jam-filled pastries?

As they crossed the square to where some clever shopkeeper had roped off the area of his storefront and set up several chairs and makeshift tables, Gourry leaned over to quietly speak with Lina.

"What do you mean, almost out? It's only been three days since that last bandit camp".

"Well, we're running low. Enough for two, maybe three more days in Atlass City." She sighed as she set down her armload and flipped the shopkeeper his one-silver seating fee. "It just seems a girl can't make a living off liberated bandit loot anymore. The last five we visited were almost too poor to have bothered shaking down."

"What's wrong? Is it all the rain and cold we've had?"

"What? You think chilly drizzle would stop bandits from raiding a caravan? No, it's something else"

Gourry thought hard for a moment. It wasn't something that came naturally to him. Then, one of his brilliant non-sequiturs bubbled out.

"Oh. Uncle Kendry's fish!"

They sat down at an empty table. It creaked under the weight of several dozen Sugary Splendours. 

"Hunh? FISH, Gourry? I thought we were talking about impoverished bandits."

Gourry was already digging in to his pile. Lina started on hers.

"Well, Lina, munch Uncle Kendry mmph once found a great fishing spot scrunch. He went every mmph day, and every day came munch back with the best chomp and biggest fish anywhere. Then gulp they got munch smaller, and finally yum ran out."

"You're saying scrunch I've fished-out yum all the bandits on gulp this continent?"

"Well, how long does it take bandits to gather what you spend?"

Lina's face fell in sudden understanding, and she slumped miserably to the table. "I can't believe you figured that out before I did"

"What?"

"Gourry, how can I make a living if bandits don't have enough of a work ethic to keep me in the black HEY! munch, gulp, crunch" Gourry had almost finished his pile and had started to nip from hers. She had to move fast, and began gobbling fast enough to turn other patrons' heads.

" Well, you weren't eating it. You were talking about bandits." [snatch!]

"I mmph was gulp getting munch _depressed_ gulp about scrnch bandits, thanks to you!"

"Hey, when did they become my fault?" Gourry interrupted [snatch!]

Lina ignored his protest, but not his pilfering. "depressed thanks to you! And you know I need to eat to feel better when I'm depressed! And then you go and start eating MY food?!? You've still got your own!"

Gourry gambled on one more theft [grab!], then realized he'd overplayed his luck as Lina's expression shifted to that of an angry tiger. Her temper had reached flashpoint.

"Oh yeah? Well, then" She suddenly leaned hard into the table so she could loot the last of Gourry's platter. Unfortunately, the makeshift table was already suffering from the earlier weight of all Samuel's Specials and had a weak leg. It broke and she followed it down. The last few pastries catapulted into the air as Lina's side of the table dropped.

Everything went into slow motion.

"Nooooo-ooo-oooo!" She wailed despairingly as the last _Samuel's Sweet Supreme Spicy Cinnamon-Sugarpuff Streudel_ arced gracefully upward. Its sugar glaze caught the sun and winked tauntingly, just out of reach. She leaped up, striving to save Samuel's last honey-glistening miracle of confectionery perfection, reaching straining stretching

The eye of every patron was on her, caught up in the drama of the moment

Reaching just about There! Ahhh oooh noo

It bounced off the tip of her outstretched finger, arcing, twirling, tumbling falling Noooo-oo

__

Sploosh! It landed in the mud puddle left by a missing paving cobble.

A single drop of mud flipped back and hit Lina squarely between her eyes.

Time returned to normal. Lina was sprawled flat on the ground, staring in anguished disbelief as the mud drop trickled down to dangle off the tip of her nose. As she watched, the streudel bobbed gently in the puddle, muddy water slowly soaking upward through the pastry. It began to crumble, then dissolve. Slowly it disintegrated. In seconds, all that was left were a few forlorn crumbs, floating on the surface. Finally, even these winked out as they were soaked and sank out of sight.

"Oh no my last cinnamon sugarpuff streudel" She got up slowly, eyes brimming with tears.

With Lina, anguish usually turned quickly to a burning anger. Burning, in the sense of a fire or explosion spell being applied to any nearby handy target.

Gourry was cringing behind the half-collapsed table. Though it was probably hopeless, he held out his hanky for her mud splotch as a peace offering. He braced himself for a singeing and hoped few in the tightly packed crowds would be caught by the blast. Just then, he was saved by a most unlikely coincidence. That is, it would be unlikely were you not unbeaten world-saving heroes like Gourry and Lina. Unlikely coincidence is a defining factor in heroic lives.

"Well, well. My lucky day" a pause as the newcomer assessed the situation He blinked in mild astonishment, and then reached two blue fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose before continuing.

"Good grief, you two really don't EVER change, do you? It's just like last time we accidentally met up" He scanned the sky "At least there aren't any attacking, pink-bow clad dragons!"

"Zel? Zelgadis?" Uttered simultaneously, Gourry's voice echoed relief, Lina's disbelief.

"Allow me to save your skin, Gourry, by offering to buy you both dinner?"

Lina's utter shock was evident. "What's up Zel? _Volunteering_ to feed _us_?"

Zel smiled a little, and looked pointedly at the upturned platters and sad, broken little pastry casualties scattered about the ground, bleeding honey and jam. "It's what friends do when they haven't seen each other in a while, and, seeing as you've just eaten, I might actually be able to afford what appetite you have left."

His smile curved even wider. "Besides, I'm on official business and have an expense account!"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Zelgadis, Lina and Gourry had been walking along briskly. Crowds had thinned a little for supper, and clouds had begun to build up again, taking some of the heat out of the day. Zel was scanning signs for a decent restaurant while Lina and Gourry quietly bickered over whose fault it really was the last pastries had been spoiled. Then the chimera quite suddenly stopped, in the middle of a major intersection. He was nearly toppled when the other two collided with his back. Lina seemed ready to turn her temper on him, but was brought up short by a powerful sense of déja vu.

Two famous restaurants stood on either side of the opposite exit. "Nioharon's Roast Beef" read one sign. "Nyara-Nyara Hot Pot" read the other.

Lina's eyes widened. "Oh, wow."

Zel answered. "I'll say. Gods, has it been only three years? Remember the last time we were here?"

"Hmmmmm. Nope!" Gourry answered predictably.

Lina flipped. Gourry was soon in a headlock. Zel noticed it wasn't as vicious as they had once been. It was more like a comfortable pattern, and come to think of it their bickering during the walk had been more or less good-natured Oh-ho well, they had been together four years and some

Lina was half-yelling, half-laughing. "Gourry! This is where we got hired for that Taramu guy. Then that led to Halciform, then Seygram, and then Kanzell and well" Lina's eyes got a little unfocused and her headlock loosened. "Oh, wow." She said again. "Only three years?"

Zel just shook his head. "Yep, the last time we were here, Gaav and Phibrizzo were alive and just near-legendary beings who supposedly had no connection with us. The Mazoku Barrier was still up, the Outer World unattainable. We'd never seen, let alone met, a Golden Dragon, nor even really heard of DarkStar as anything other than some otherworldly beast used to scare children into behaving. Here, it all kind of hits home, doesn't it? It was our argument, standing right here, that changed our little band from just another bunch of mercenary adventurers to to" Zel sweatdropped a little "to whatever it is we became."

Lina had let Gourry go and was standing, rubbing at the back of her head.

"What are you saying Zel?!? We'd already killed a piece of Shabranuigdo, and then Copy Rezo too. That's hardly run-of-the-mill adventuring."

"But neither of those really changed the way the world was going, did they? After Gaav and Phibrizzo, though and don't forget we totally changed the fate of the Overworld, too"

Gourry was rubbing out the kinks in his neck, and looking confusedly from Zel to Lina and back again.

Lina was quiet. "Three years A bit more than a thousand days Has the world really changed that much in so little time?"

Zel was quiet too. "More in the last three years than in the last three thousand. And _we_ — but especially you, Lina — are responsible for almost all of it. It's a little spooky"

All three just stood for a moment, thinking. The clouds were closer, the crowds just a little thinner.

"I wonder what the Princess would be thinking if she was here, too" Zel mused aloud, without really realizing it.

It was Lina's turn to think oh-ho She glanced sidewise at Zel. Why had he said _that_? Was _somebody_ on his mind? Then she decided it was probably just idle wondering. Amelia had been part of all that too - but the Princess'? Why so formal? Wait, hadn't he said something about official business?

As usual Gourry broke the thoughtful mood. "The only spooky thing I see is the way people are staring at us for standing in the middle of a busy road when it's about to rain. Lina? Seafood?"

"He's right. This is way too deep-thinking for an empty stomach in a city street." Lina grinned and ribbed Zelgadis with her elbow "Nioharon's is still the best food in Atlass City"

Zel looked at her. "Oh no. I'm not feeling nostalgic enough to want to repeat that argument." He _was_ smiling a little though.

"Geez, Zel. Where's your sense of fun? Although" Lina thought a moment "I've got a hankering for seafood, too. Hot Pot it is"

A few drops of rain spattered down on a chill wind gust

"Oh no! What's with this unending bad weather?" Lina exclaimed.

Zel coughed a little.

"Ahem I'd been wondering myself. Then it came to me a couple of weeks ago. I think it's our fault too, though DarkStar gets to share the blame." They had started towards the entrance to Nyara-Nyara.

"WHAT? Zel, are you crazy? There are words for people who think they're the reason for everything. Like narcissistic' or egomaniac'." 

Zel choked on that one. _Lina_, calling _him_ an egomaniac?

"Ahh Nevertheless I'm pretty sure it's true. One of Rezo's books talked about big volcanoes going off and the weather being bad for several years afterwards. Too much rock dust and water in the sky, blocks some of the sun. Dragons flying high could taste the dust on the air, there was so much Hmmm, also crops sometimes do well everywhere, for some reason, after really big volcanic eruptions"

Gourry held open the door. They stepped into the restaurant as Lina replied: "So what? I haven't started any volcanoes."

Zel answered her, very quietly, in the foyer. None of them had been particularly proud in the aftermath of beating DarkStar, and the persistent repercussions of that battle, like the loss of the Gold Dragons and several thousand miles of seriously altered landscape, were bad enough to have kept their role in it all to themselves. Besides the eight who had been there at the last, only Prince Philionel knew some of the story — and he only knew because Princess Amelia had thought he should know what had been going on.

"No, but think of all those blasts Darkstar made on the way to the Ancient Dragon's Temple. Each was as big as most volcanoes get. And then, there was the backblast from your spell that killed Darkstar — all the way from the Ancient's Temple back to the island where the Gate was. That was the match of several volcanoes, at least" Zel suddenly realized he was probably making a mistake. _Why_ was he trying to convince a friend she was significantly to blame for two or three years of bad weather worldwide?

Too late Lina's face had turned noticeably blue and she was covering her eyes with a hand.

"Oh, great. Blame Evil Lina for everything. Add the weather onto my bad reputation. Next I'll have mobs of rioting children trying to lynch me for spoiling two years' worth of festivals groan Now I'm getting depressed again."

It was Zel's turn to sweatdrop. Depressed, Lina could eat for ten. So much for his expense account.

He made an attempt to salvage his budget. "Don't think of it like that! After all Amelia, Gourry and I all helped cast that spell, right? We're all to blame. And it wasn't as if we had a choice two years of cold, wet summers sure beat DarkStar's world-purification plans by a long shot."

Gourry tried as well: "Cheer up, Lina. Zel said good crops might come too, right? That means lots of food for everyone, including us!"

Lina's resilient humour asserted itself. "Ohhh, No! Maybe that'll make me feel better _after_ twenty helpings of Hot Pot, but not before!" Her fangs were showing. "Pay-up time, Zel. And Gourry, you can buy me dessert to make up for ruining the last Spicy Cinnamon-Sugarpuff Streudel!"

* * * * * * * * * *

"Aaaahhh! Now THAT was yummy."

Lina leaned her chair back and planted her heels on the table. Gourry lounged in his chair, one leg over an armrest, one arm draped over the chair back. Both were busily picking at their teeth. Zel, used to his companions' loose grasp of manners, quietly sipped at a wineglass, with a nearly emptied bottle close to hand.

The beleaguered waitress came to clear away a few of the heaped bowls and platters that nearly hid the table surface and looked disapprovingly at the placement of Lina's feet.

"You folks DONE yet? Cuz'n you've just about cleaned out the kitchen. The cooks is a-crying with exhaustion." She paused a moment "A-course, the boss, he be plenty happy. Or will be once you pay up." She handed Zel the bill.

He barely managed to stop himself from spraying nearby tables with his mouthful of Piesporter Ost-Zefeeria. He swallowed, choked a little, and stared slightly wild-eyed at the waitress. "Are you sure you added it up right?" He began doing his own calculations.

The waitress gave him the evil eye. "Well'n, you did order 30 Hot Pots. The lobster'n'the scallops is outta season nearby and come from far aways upcoast. That does raise the price a little. I'm not a-doubtin you can't afford no tip, either?"

Zel just shook his head. It all added up_. Oh well, I was under-budget up til now anyway_. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge-like piece of jewelry. It was enameled with the Seyruun Family's Coat-of-Arms.

"Just charge it to the Saillune Crown Treasury. Add on ten percent for the tip." He handed her the badge.

"Humph! Ain't that just the cap now I'll haff'n to wait for my tip til the Treasury gits around t'payin up." She flounced off to get the owner and necessary writ. There was no formal charge system, of course. The owner of the establishment would simply attach the bill to a sheet of paper; then both he and the patron would sign the parchment, which would then be marked with the signet mounted to the back of the badge. The unfortunate master of Nyara's would then have to ship off the document and wait for the Treasury to pay up, which could take weeks.

Lina was looking curiously at Zelgadis while he poured himself the last of the wine. "Wow, Zel. Where did you get one of those? Just what _sort_ of official business are you on?" Her eyes darted to his hands, looking for the ring she was starting to think had to be there. It wasn't. When her eyes returned to his face, the look she gave him was sidelong and suspicious.

Zel had leaned back, casual-like, and didn't notice. "Well, you remember how in the Outer World I got to playing with that astrolabe, to figure out where we were from time-to-time."

"Sure, Zel"

"And you also remember I came back to Saillune with the Princess after the Darkstar quest?"

"Yeeesss" Lina was now giving him a sly glance, which he also missed.

"Well, it didn't take long for me to start going a little stir-crazy, just sitting around the palace, so I took to wandering the lands again, looking for a cure. But, I found I didn't have the patience to do mercenary work anymore — after all we'd been through, hiring myself out to petty kings and stingy merchants seemed pointless. So I was always a little short on cash and temper both, and found myself wandering back to Saillune every dozen weeks" 

Lina interrupted. "Oh? Really now? Always back to Saillune?" This time he caught her tone, which was what? Full of implication? He glanced at Lina. She was looking at him expectantly. Zel felt a blush developing. He cleared his throat and decided to cut the story short.

"Ahem anyhow, the third or fourth time Amelia suddenly came up with the idea of making me the Royal Cartographer'. I was dragged before Prince Philionel, given the title and the badge, some funds for the necessary tools, and ordered to train a small staff. Once that was done, we all marched off to do Their Highnesses' bidding and start producing accurate maps of the countryside. I go back to the capital every three or four months, drop off my observations with some cartographic scribes and clear my account, then head off to a different corner of the Kingdom. I just finished the coastal areas to the south and was on my way back again and STOP looking at me that way!"

Lina was all innocence. "What way Zel? I'm just impressed you've conned Amelia into funding your travels all over the continent while you look for a cure. Very clever"

"It's- it's not like that!" He was gripping the table in frustration.

"Ohh? How is it then? And since when have you accepted orders from anyone?"

"Rrrgh! Oh never mind.". He leaned back and took a long sip.

Zel knew Lina was teasing him, but he couldn't help it. She always seemed to know just which buttons to push. He was rescued from further needling by the return of the waitress, with the owner. Lina was immediately distracted by the need to order more?

"Just the girl I wanted to see! Waitress, bring me a coffee."

The waitress gritted her teeth. "An will that be on the Treasury bill, too?"

Lina glanced at the fuming Zelgadis, sighed, and decided on mollification. He HAD bought her dinner after all.

"No, I'll get this and anything else we order tonight. Zel? Gourry? Anything else?"

Gourry, who had begun to doze a little during Zel's tale, roused himself. "Oh, yes please. Some ale."

Zel glanced up from the paper he was signing, thought hard a moment, and regretfully decided on coffee for himself too. He seemed to be the only one drinking from the wine bottle, anyway.

The waitress and restaurateur left after returning Zel's badge with the Seyruun Coat-of-Arms.

Zel looked curiously at Lina. "Don't you care to drink? You're certainly old enough by now, aren't you? Amelia's almost eighteen, and I know you're older than her by a little bit."

Lina actually blushed. "Ummm, noer, I mean, I'm old enough, but liquor doesn't agree with me"

Zel sensed a little revenge was at hand. He looked over at Gourry, who was clearly holding back a chuckle. "Do tell?"

Gourry glanced askance at Lina, then back at Zel. "Well, it was a few months ago, Lina's birthday in fact"

Lina thumped the table with both her fists. "Don't you dare Gourry!"

It was a little too late for that, though. "She decided to try a local cherry liquor. She liked it — a lot — but, well, had a little too much. I decided to get her to her Inn room"

Zel smiled a little. "Oh? Really?"

Lina was slumped on the table, and covering her face "Curse you Gourry! Why is it you can't ever remember ANYTHING, but can remember every detail of that evening?" she wailed.

Gourry continued on. "anyhow, at the Inn, there was this donkey outside"

Lina's voice became threatening. "Gourry, don't you dare bring that up! I swear, I'll". Her fists were clenched, her arms waving.

Gourry was shaking from the strain of holding back his laughter. "I can't help it I gotta tell someone. Oh Zel, you should have seen that donkey's expression when"

Zel never found out what had happened to the donkey, as Lina solidly clobbered her blonde Protector in the side of the head. She then turned towards Zel. She was blushing crimson, but still managing to threaten murder with her eyes: "Zel you WILL forget that ANYTHING about a donkey was ever mentioned"

Zel, wide-eyed, leaned back as far as he could, hands up to ward off palpable fury. He nodded. He was definitely curious about the donkey, but didn't want Lina firing off a Dragon Slave in the middle of Atlass City "Ahehe, heh already forgotten"

Lina sat back "Good. Here comes my coffee. We won't mention this little incident, will we?" She gave him one more chilling glance.

Zel spoke in a small, strained voice. "Of course not what incident?"

The waitress gave the downed Gourry a curious glance, then saw Lina's blushing face and outraged expression. She hastily served everyone, then dashed for the imagined safety of the far side of the room.

Lina's voice still held an edge of embarassment as she tried to shift topics. "Now, Zel, you said earlier today that it was your lucky day'' to find us. What was so lucky about it?"

Zel closed his eyes and looked down. "Phoo. Good question yikes!"

Lina's eyes had turned lethal again. "Okay, cut the cynical humour, wiseguy!"

He turned his head sidewise and glanced at the ceiling to hide his amused expression. What could have embarrassed her so much that she was still this mad? He covered his mouth, faked a cough to stifle his chuckle then turned back.

"Well, Lina, I already mentioned it in passing. Amelia is almost eighteen. Her birthday is in less than a month, and she's had messengers scouring the continent with invitations for you two for more than a dozen weeks. You see, it's going to be a very big deal: she Turns of Age, gets Knighted, and Confirmed as the Heir to the Throne all in one day. Only her wedding someday, and eventually her Coronation, will likely be bigger events. She'd have been heartbroken if you two weren't there for the occasion."

Lina's mood flipflopped again. "Her eighteenth? A Knighting? Confirmation as Heir? That sounds like a major party! Oh, wow" Her eyes were glittering stars, her hands clasped in anticipation.

Zel thought he knew exactly what Lina was thinking, and sighed. "Yes, there will be a huge feast, and you and Gourry will be among the guests of honour"

THWACK! Zel winced as Lina solidly thumped the top of his head. "Ow! I always forget your sharp hair" she muttered, shaking her hand. Then she looked at him sourly.

"Zel! How can you think so little of me? The feast is only secondary! I wouldn't demean Amelia by only accepting her invitation to such an important occasion in her life because of a free meal! I mean, she's my best girlfriend, and my protégé! As her mentor and greatest positive influence in her life, it would be unforgivable to not show up!"

Zel was wide-eyed. Lina looked at him seriously. "Well? What are you waiting for? Help me wake up this lout" she was pointing at Gourry "so we can get to bed. It's a long way to Saillune City and we need an early start! Ummm which Inn are you staying at? Does it have room?"

"Yes. Ahh, I have a horse. Are you two willing to ride? It'll only take a week to get there that way."

Lina grinned wickedly.

"Now that you mention it, it would, wouldn't it. Don't lose that Royal Badge. We need to talk to some stablemasters come sunrise, and my purse won't stand up to buying good horses right now."

Zel just winced and bent over to shake the still unconscious Gourry. Oh well, maybe he could convince the Royal Post Service to just _lend_ a couple of horses

* * * * * * * * * *

****

NEXT CHAPTER: So how has Amelia been faring over the last couple years?

* * * * * * * * * *

Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!


	4. First Rumblings

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

* * * * * * * * * *

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CHAPTER THREE

First Rumblings

Three week's foot travel to the northwest of where Lina, Gourry and Zel were calling it a night, things were also winding down in the Royal capital of Saillune. The Sun had set two hours earlier already, which meant it was almost midnight, so far north and this close to the Year's Long Day. Not that anyone had noticed sundown, really; it was overcast, gloomy and drizzling in the White Magic City as much as anywhere else. Despite the late hour, Princess Amelia wil Tesla de Seyruun, Sorceress, Foreign Minister, sometime Adventuress, soon to be Proclaimed Heiress, and the undisputed sweetheart of her nation was still at work in her office. The attentive scribe at her side, her personal secretary, still held several documents awaiting her examination and signature.

With no small frustration, she speared her quill into the inkpot, stretched and yawned. She got up to walk to the window, massaging the small of her back. The lighted windows of the Palace winked at her through the rain, backlit by the vast, misty-dim glow of Saillune City beyond. The sight of all the prosperity – in no small part her responsibility to safeguard - rarely failed to inspire her to plow on, no matter the hour. Not tonight, though, and she was feeling more than usually envious of Miss Lina's comparatively carefree existence of wandering the countryside and doing little more than satisfying her tummy, whims, and hobbies. _What was she doing now,_ Amelia wondered?_ Probably sleeping off a bulging stomach_. She sighed.

"Mister Frederick, it's awfully late is there really anything in that pile you're still holding that absolutely can't wait until morning?"

Frederick quickly leafed through his handful. "Hummm actually, Highness, I don't think so No, wait: there's a late request from the Elmikian Embassy that should probably be seen to right away. We can return it with the first morning dispatches."

Amelia yawned again "What IS it with the Elmikian Embassy these days? They keep sending urgent documents almost too late, and expect them back right away!" She had walked back to lean on the desk as she said this, and Frederick handed her the document. "Rrrgh! It's like they're being deliberately annoying!" She bent to look it over.

Frederick saw her eyes widen a little. "What is it, Princess?"

"Oh dear! It seems old Count Regin is retiring as their Ambassador. And he was the only nice, endearing person on their whole staff!"

"Endearing, Princess? If I may inquire?"

Amelia smiled at him. "Oh well Mister Frederick, it's just that Count Regin used to dandle me on his knee and bring Elmikian chocolates for Gracia and I when we were little. He's been ambassador to Saillune for longer than I've been alive. It just seems like the passing of an era. I'll miss him, even though we've kind of been adversaries for the last couple of years" She sighed and continued to scan the document. The seals at the bottom caught her eye. Several of the usual State seals were missing. Her eyes immediately moved to the top of the page and saw it was unmarked letterhead.

"Hmmm! That's odd. This is a personal dispatch, not a formal notice He's requesting a private audience as soon as it could be scheduled."

Frederick was thoughtful. "Hmmm, irregular, but not unexpected if he's retiring and was once as affectionate towards you as you say"

Amelia interrupted his musing. Her Secretary was in the habit of pondering forever on the endless ramifications of even the smallest political developments unless she brought him up short. "Is there a formal notice of his retirement, Mister Frederick?"

Frederick briefly flipped through the other pages that had been meant for tonight's business. "Not here" He immediately set to shuffling through the documents that had been set aside for the next day. After considerable rustling and paging, he finally pulled out a proper Elmikian letterhead that was positively encrusted with seals. "Here it is!" He frowned, perplexed "But why an urgent personal letter when the State notice is just normal? That's _very_ irregular."

Amelia was nibbling a thumbnail. "I don't know, but I'm definitely curious." She gazed at the ceiling for a moment, thoughtful. Coming to a decision, she moved smartly into her chair.

"Mister Frederick, can we bump anyone off the appointment list tomorrow morning?" She began scribbling a letter on blank letterhead.

"Princess? Is it wise to risk the insult to someone? And that will certainly assure any unscheduled private audience will be noticed by everyone attending morning court."

Amelia paused, then sagged a little "Phoo. You're right, I wasn't thinking." 

The Princess frowned in hard thought for a moment, chin clasped, tapping at her cheek with the quill pen. Frederick was silent, but his eyes registered approval. Princess Amelia was coming along fast in her role as Foreign Minister. His own years of experience as Secretary to Prince Philionel had already suggested a solution, but he waited to see what the Princess would think up. 

At first Frederick had been aghast that Philionel had assigned such an important job to his impetuous – and still young – daughter when she had returned from several months away on one of her strange journeys. But, the Prince had assured him she had been learning at his side since she was eleven, and had seen more of the world – including some of the Outside world – than just about anyone else on the continent. Feeling terribly put upon, as it originally seemed to him he was being demoted from Foreign Secretary to Royal Babysitter, he had nonetheless accepted his fate – no one in the palace, himself included, could refuse Prince Philionel and ever feel good about it. 

Much to his surprise, she had thrown herself whole-heartedly into the work, always accepting fair criticism, always doing her absolute best, never flinching from long hours, tough decisions or hard duties. Though she seemed immature at times, Frederick had discovered there was deeper maturity, rooted in her sense of duty and her oft-confused but always sincere sense of justice. He was pretty sure some of the things she had seen on her trips with that berserk Sorceress, Lina Inverse, had also made parts of the Princess a lot older than her years. He had no idea what exactly she had gone through, but there were rumours and he had his suspicions. The world had been changing a lot lately, and it seemed Amelia might have been involved up to her neck in it all 

Whatever might be the case, Amelia _had_ turned out to be a natural diplomat, using her disarming cuteness or her penchant for righteous oratory as required. That last sometimes gave Frederick worries, but Princess Amelia, thankfully, had yet to inappropriately threaten smashing even the most obnoxious envoys with the "Hammer of Justice". She had done it a couple of appropriate times, though.

Amelia at last interrupted his musing by crumpling the letter she had started and pulling out a new sheet, this one with the gilt Saillune letterhead used for State documents.

"How about this, then? I'll write a proper formal letter of regret at his retirement and a respectful commendation of his long tenure, praiseworthy skill, and forthright manner. Then, at the end, a request that, his duties permitting, he join me for a small private tea sometime in the next couple of days. I'll imply that he'd be satisfying the whim of a girl he used to bounce on his knee and who holds some affection for him, nothing more." She grimaced a little at even this small deceit. She had only ever lied once in her life, and that to spare a dear friend's heart when she was dying – fortunately, dying only temporarily.

Frederick smiled reassuringly. "Excellent, Princess. We may be reading way too much into this, but it can't hurt to be careful. And you do hold some affection for him, do you not?" At her nod, he continued "Then it's hardly dishonest to let them think so."

Amelia stretched and yawned again "Hwaahuuahhh then let's get this letter written and sealed so I can go to bed." She gave Frederick a bright smile, and set to with quill.

Frederick stifled a yawn of his own, then shuffled around collecting the various signets and waxes for the official seals. Setting these down, he reached across the desk to turn up the wick on the oil lamp that had faded considerably during their discussion. Amelia, gazing off into space, lost in the composition of her letter, never noticed. A pleased smile ghosting across his face at the ongoing progress in the training of Saillune's future Queen Regnant, Frederick unwrapped a slug of blue wax and began heating it over a candle.

* * * * * * * *

Half an hour later Amelia was walking towards the Royal apartments in the company of two guards. She had to stop every few yards it seemed, to yawn again. She sighed a little and muttered to herself "Everyone tells me I'm working too hard, and I'm starting to feel what they mean." 

Upon her recuperation from the DarkStar quest, Prince Philionel had taken her aside and told her the time had come for her to start serious training as his eventual successor. Always anxious to show Daddy her best, Amelia had thrown herself into Governance with the same unstoppable zeal she had once demonstrated while undergoing Lina's ridiculously intense training program' for learning the Dragon Slave. She had tasked herself to learn everything she could about finance, diplomacy, lawmaking, procedure, precedent, custom everything. To do anything less would be to fail in her Just Duty to her country. But it was such _hard_ work! And so _much_!

Amelia paused to yawn yet again while two other guards, posted at the entrance to the Royal Apartments, bent to open the doors. The two who had accompanied the Princess stood smartly at attention, awaiting dismissal; Amelia turned towards them. One of the other tasks she had set herself was to learn the names of all the Palace Guard and Staff. It had been easy with the select hundred or so who guarded the Family quarters and Royal Persons, like the four around her at this moment. They were chosen for long service and proven loyalty and she had known most of them since she was little. But the other couple of thousand Guards, and who knew how many House Staff were tough to keep straight. It had never yet occurred to Amelia how much impact it had on common servants and soldiers. To Amelia it was just the Right Thing To Do: their lives were pledged to defend and serve her, the least she could do was learn their names.

"Good night, Mister Jeffers, Mister Meritt." With a salute, they turned and marched back down the hall. Then she turned to step through the door, doing a double take when she realized the older one, a favourite of hers, had served the last three nights as well. Though a little light-headed with fatigue, she decided a little banter might help her forget the stresses of the day.

"You've drawn night duty again, Mister Tam? Have you become allergic to sunlight?" Tam had been in the Personal Guard fifteen years and was as inured to the Seyruun family quirks and informality as any could be.

"No, Princess. I actually traded several night shifts with some guards from next week"

Amelia's tone became conspiratorial. "Oh? Some lady in town?" She grinned when his blush told her might be partly right. The real reason, though, became clear when he coughed, then gestured towards his fellow door-guard.

"Ahem Princess, if I may presume?"

Amelia looked over at the other guard, whom she did not recognize. Realizing he wished to introduce them, she nodded.

Tam smiled "Princess Amelia, meet the newest member of the Personal Guard. This is Jarod, who replaces old Ronal that retired last month. I well Princess, I'm pleased to be able to say he's also my nephew. He's been escorting Prince Christopher for a week; this is his first duty shift on the Royal Quarters."

The named guard bowed. Amelia gave him an encouraging smile and offered her hand.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Mister Jarod! I'm glad to see Mister Tam has taken you in hand. How are you finding your new duties?"

Utterly taken off guard by her disregard for protocol, Jarod accepted her hand gingerly. "I um well enough, Your Highness. But very different from border duty". He paused, a little lost for words and blushing slightly. Common soldiers aren't normally prepared for friendly light conversation with their eventual Sovereigns, particularly cute seventeen-year old female ones.

Amelia covered the slightly awkward silence by yawning again "Awwwaaahuah Well I'm glad to have met you. I'm sure you will be a credit to your service, if you're of Mister Tam's family! But I have got to get some sleep, and shall stop distracting you from your duties."

With a wave and light laugh, she walked off. Jarod and Tam saluted, then closed the doors softly behind her.

A little bemused, Jarod looked at his uncle. "One hears, but it's a surprise to find it true. She'll not forget my name, will she? She is not what one expects in a Princess, to care like that for her servants"

Tam had reassumed a proper guard's pose, but broke protocol to wink and speak out of the side of his mouth "Count your blessings, son that you live in a land with Her Highness and the Prince as rulers. Now no more thinking Her Highness' informality is an excuse for dereliction of your duty, soldier! Don't disappoint her faith in our family's record!" The order was curt, but the older guard's eyes reflected laughter.

Jarod snapped to attention and resumed a proper guard's demeanor, silently facing down the long hallway. He spent the rest of his shift wondering at the diminutive Princess who had with just a few friendly words bought a measure of personal loyalty to add to what he already owed out of duty.

* * * * * * * * * *

Innocent of the fact she had casually just gained another loyal heart, Amelia had almost reached her door when she heard a loud chuckle from the Royal Study, followed by a softer one. The Princess suddenly realized she hadn't spoken to Daddy or Uncle Christopher since Morning Court. She walked over and knocked politely, then opened it at her father's loud "Enter!" Crown Prince Philionel never seemed to speak in anything less than a boisterous bellow. 

"Good Evening Daddy Uncle." She went over to share a big bear hug with her father.

"Daughter! Are you only just getting away from your duties?! Join us for a nightcap. It can't hurt, and will help you get to sleep!" He gestured at an open bottle of sweet Elmikian Sherry on a sidetable.

"I, well maybe a little. If it will help me get to sleep."

She yanked off her tiara and tossed it negligently onto a padded footrest. She joined her father and uncle by the fireplace by collapsing into a big velvet-upholstered comfy chair. She suddenly realized her feet were killing her and reached down to massage them. 

"Oooh-ow, Daddy! I can't believe how quickly the day passed. I was just about to go to bed, when I heard you in here and realized it's probably been twelve hours since I last saw you. However did you manage to find time to do everything before I took over Foreign Relations? wagugh!" Her father's encouraging backslap made her gasp audibly as he boomed out a reassurance.

"Wahhha-ha hah! Don't worry, Amelia! Things are rarely ever this busy. It's just the whole business of your upcoming Confirmation and all the foreign deputations that will be attending, added to poor old King Malthos of Elmikia's ill health, and all the complications still arising from renewed contact with the Outer World. You're doing very well! A real baptism by fire! Haha! In a month, things will have settled down." To any spectator, it would have been clear that Amelia came by her unquenchable enthusiasm honestly. If anything, her father had more.

Amelia smiled, then exhaled a little numbly. "Phoo. I sure hope so." Her tone turned ironic "It might be nice to remember what eight hours of sleep feels like. I'd almost rather be battling a ranking Mazoku like Kanzell again, than this never-ending avalanche of paperwork."

Christopher and Philionel shared a glance and curt nod, then Christopher began: "You might try delegating a bit more of your work to Frederick. He had you doing _some_ of everything while you learned the ropes. Now, you've taken on almost _all_ of everything and are just overworking yourself"

Amelia gave him a sour look "If I had a gold sovereign for every time someone said that to me"

He smiled "It's nothing less than the truth. Honestly, Dear Niece, Secretary Frederick would welcome the suggestion. He's been at a loss for stuff to do the last few months."

"Mister Frederick? But he's always at work as long as I am!"

Philionel waded in "But, only doing what any undersecretary could do! Sorting documents and advising is far easier work than having to make the actual decisions. Not that he minds – he's come to quite like working with you instead of me. Maybe more! Haha! Get him to recommend someone! You start training the new fellow in the way you like things done, and delegate back to Frederick some duties!" He smiled. "In fact, that's an order! Training an assistant would be good experience for you!" He winked. "And you need to free up some time to give thought to your Birthday and Confirmation ceremonies!"

Amelia had developed a small sweatdrop and a slightly exasperated expression "You were just waiting up, hoping I would come in tonight so you could tell me this, weren't you?"

Princes Christopher and Philionel grinned like the conspirators they were. Then Philionel handed her the glass of sherry he had poured. He put a hand on her shoulder and became serious.

"Daughter! Never doubt you're doing me proud! But knowing what is too much work and how to delegate are two of the most important skills you can learn. No leader of a nation can do everything!"

Amelia's eyes had gone big, round and moist at his words. "Oh, Daddy!"

"Daughter!" 

Christopher smiled and sipped at his drink while his older brother and his niece slipped into one of their hugging fits. Once that had subsided, all three chatted animatedly about the day's business for a half hour, before finally and thankfully calling it a night and going their separate ways.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two mornings later, Amelia was sitting in her family's Breakfast Solar. The break in the weather that had earlier touched off a festival in Atlass City had reached Saillune, and the Princess was enjoying the sun streaming in through the large east-facing windows. A large tome lay open but ignored before her.

She had taken her Father's advice and approached Secretary Frederick about shifting some of her workload back to him, and quickly discovered it had been a conspiracy of three. It had only taken Frederick a day to reschedule and reorganize everything, which bespoke of considerable preparation. Secretary Frederick now took Morning Court and all the less important delegations and petitions, while Amelia handled important matters during Afternoon Court. The two were to meet daily at lunch and after dinner to compare notes. This was the first day of her new schedule. Though Amelia was reveling in her first downtime in what she now realized had been far too long, it had mixed benefits.

Upon waking that morning she had restarted her neglected morning regimen of heavy calisthenics and gymnastics only to discover how much of her former fitness she had lost in the interim. It had taken an hour's hot soak to relieve the soreness and stretched muscles from exercises that a year ago wouldn't even have caused her to break a sweat. Part of the reason she was lazing in the sun now was that her legs were still complaining too much to want to be moving about. That part of the morning ordeal had not been without a silver lining, though: several pieces of equipment in her private gym had had to be adjusted. Apparently she had had a last, late growth spurt and added a few inches in the last eighteen months.

The second half of the morning was turning out to be something of a disappointment. The massive book on the table, a slogging discourse on ancient temple rituals, had taken months for her to track down after returning from the Outer World. It had only arrived in Saillune after her assignment as Foreign Minister had consumed her life. She had been waiting to dive into it for over a year, hoping it might provide a hint or two on human use of Holy Magic. It was turning out to be a dud. All this book talked about was the proper procedures for rinsing holy water decanters, the placement of flowers for specific holy days, and other absolutely useless material. The Dragon Race had sealed away the power of Holy Magic, denying it to human users, after the War of the Monster's Resurrection a millennium past. It was becoming apparent to Amelia that they had done just as thorough a job of eliminating any written references on how to do it, or even the theory behind it.

In a final gesture of disgust, she shoved the book away and turned her back on it, to face out the window. Very few things, besides the perpetration of crimes, really annoyed Amelia. But the lost arts of Holy Magic, and the way they had been yanked out of human hands by smugly self-superior Dragons, was one of them.

She only had one lead left – other than going begging to Miss Filia the ex-Dragon Priestess – but it was one she didn't want to even consider tackling without consulting Miss Lina. It was just one more reason she wished to see the madcap redhead. No one knew more about Magic Theory, and lost or proscribed Books, than Lina Inverse.

She sighed at that last thought. There had been no news on her wayward mentor and dear friends' whereabouts, and Amelia had resigned herself, disappointedly, to the likelihood she and Mister Gourry would not be found in time for the celebrations. At least Mister Zelgadis was due back in a few days 

Amelia gasped as she suddenly became aware she'd barely given a waking thought to her blue, stone-skinned comrade in weeks. More than anything else, that moment of realization made her realize how hard she had been pushing herself and how close to burning herself out she must be. Wait a minute _waking_ thought? Why had she mentally phrased it that way? The strayed musing jostled loose a few fragments of recent dreams forgotten. 

A brewing flush was accompanied by an embarassed "Eeep!" 

She hustled to push that line of thinking aside. Not that she was ashamed. She'd admitted her fondness for the Chimera to herself years ago, before even Hellmaster had died. She had fully realized it went well beyond fondness during those last, frantic hours before DarkStar was finally defeated. None of it had since diminished, and she liked having Zelgadis reliably around, even only for short periods, which was why she had come up with the whole business of Royal Cartographer. And she would be eighteen within the month, a woman in the eyes of the law; one of her eventual duties would be to produce heirs for the Kingdom. But should a shrine maiden, Royal Princess, and self-proclaimed Ally of Justice be having dreams like _that_? Amelia realised she was on the verge of a wicked giggle. She decided to change her mental subject by turning to the contemplation of a worrisome development from the day before:

Elmikia's delegation to her Confirmation had arrived in Saillune that morning, and had presented themselves at Afternoon Court. It had quickly become obvious why old Ambassador Regin had written his urgent personal letter and request: he had worried, with good reason, that any request from the Elmikian embassy soon would be met with suspicion in Saillune.

Also, by his request, Count Regin had insured that the Seyruuns would know, in time, that the changeover was even taking place. Something that some in the delegation had clearly not wished known.

They had noisily poured in towards the end of Afternoon Court, disrupting the scheduled course of petitions while other attending parties shuffled to make room. They had taken an inordinately long time to settle down, and there had been far too many for a simple presentation and formal greeting. It would clearly have taken longer, had Ambassador Regin, still nominally in charge, not been as forceful as he was. The most fractious lot had been a small group of aristocrats whom Amelia did not recognize. Two in particular caught her eyes. The first was a stern-looking older man of military bearing and harsh countenance, clearly a high noble and probably Count Regin's replacement. The second was a younger-seeming fellow who had gone silver-haired early, wearing an outrageous costume involving lace, cloaks and surcoats, high boots, and a feathered brim-cap. The older had demanded proper seating for someone of his rank (a _Duke_? Amelia had wondered. What could that mean? Elmikian Dukes are all related by blood or marriage to their King!), despite their late arrival. Unable to dispute the rightful but ill-timed request, Regin had shrugged apologetically to the attending Sailleese footservants who set about finding a proper chair, finally locating a Zefeerian Merchant Guildmaster willing to offer up his seat.

By that point, everyone attending – a couple of ambassadors from minor Kingdoms, observers from a couple others, and a large Zefeerian trade delegation led by the helpful Guildmaster – had realized that _something_ was going on, and tension had edged to palpability. The Elmikian Empire was Saillune's closest rival in power and influence on the continent. With an impending change in Elmikian leadership, this boorish behaviour on the part of their Embassy betokened a nervous future.

Amelia had realized their plan: to present and accredit the new Ambassador, normally a very formalized affair. But without Regin's little note, she would have been surprised. At the very least it would have been embarrassing for Saillune, and, at worst, because the formal notice _had_ been sent to her – late - she could have been accused of arrogance and neglectfulness towards a rival kingdom. If she hadn't been so overworked, the document would normally have reached her in time, barely, so anything she said in defense of her ignorance would have looked like an excuse. They had gambled that she wouldn't be expecting them. She still had to think fast on her feet, as the new Ambassador's aide had begun to step toward the dais. She had stood up and spoken in a clear, strong voice to the whole room. 

"Saillune welcomes the delegation from the Elmikian Empire! We would be pleased to grant the deputation a few more minutes to arrange itself more comfortably" neatly turning _that_ ploy back against them "by ordering a ten-minute recess while our Housecarls organize additional seating for the unexpectedly large delegation. Let no one think Saillune is unwilling to take the time to ensure the hospitality of her guests." She had handed her Scepter of Office to a page before the advancing Elmikian could say anything, signifying the suspension of all official business. The Elmikian's assistant had halted, head turning to his superior, who nodded and curtly waved his agreement to Amelia's suggestion. But the Duke's eyes had glittered with checked irritation.

She had then stepped close to Frederick. "See to it that they're settled properly. And find enough pages and upper level staff to make the new Ambassador's presentation ceremony properly formal!"

Frederick had smiled. "Already being done, Princess. I took the liberty as soon as I was informed their little circus had entered the Palace grounds."

Amelia had then let out a small puff and sagged in relief, forcing out a smile of her own. "Phoo. Thanks. You're the best! I'd better make sure there are no bruised egos anywhere"

Turning, she had stepped down to the quietly murmuring party from the small Kingdom of Lennos, whose petition had been interrupted by Elmikia's entrance. They turned to her and bowed.

Amelia began. "Please accept my apologies for this interruption. Elmikia clearly has important business and it will no doubt take some time" Her apologetic tone couldn't completely hide the irony behind her last few words. "I am at your disposal after official Court if it becomes necessary."

The Ambassador from Lennos had stifled a chuckle at her implied criticisms. "No offense has been taken, Your Highness. Lennos enjoys the peaceful prosperity encouraged by you Seyruuns and is only too happy to assist in pulling Elmikia's unexpectedly bared teeth by ceding our appointment this afternoon." His expression then shifted to mild outrage "One wonders what Elmikia is doing by making such an abrasive entrance?"

"You and everyone else, I think," said Amelia, looking around the room. Expressions mostly ranged from puzzlement to outrage though some among Zefeeria's contingent were almost approving. Uh-oh she looked behind at the observers in attendance. The same – mostly puzzled or shocked, but one or two Then she saw one was nodding in open approval as he studied the Elmikian Duke. When that one realized Amelia had spotted him, he schooled his features back to neutrality. Amelia recognized him as being from a small port-city state that had lost considerable trade revenue to Saillune's large, fast-growing trading port of Atlass City.

Amelia had swallowed as she turned towards her dais to resume the business of Court.

She had looked at Frederick and saw that he too was concerned. She thought she had successfully headed off a minor Elmikian ploy only to discover it had been a part of a bigger play. As she sat down and mouthed the formal words concluding the recess, she had realized an important little battle had already been lost. It probably couldn't have been won.

Her mind returning to the present sunny Solarium, Amelia shook her head. Elmikia's Crown Prince had, through his delegation's behaviour the day before, just broadcast his future policy. He was publicly raising the flag of discontent with Saillune's overwhelming influence in trade and continental affairs. By obnoxious posturing, he was trying to demonstrate Elmikia had no fear of Saillune retaliation. He obviously hoped to rally others to his cause.

The new Ambassador was Duke Vanlac, an uncle of the Elmikian Crown Prince. While presenting his credentials, he had acted as though Princess Amelia was a child who only held her position through her father's indulgence, and directed all he said to Frederick. The few times he spoke to her his tone bordered on condescending. She had finally been forced to interrupt, saying she was understanding if some indisposition – a headache maybe – had brought on his incivility and, since he obviously had been ordered to complete his business that afternoon, offering to ease it with a healing spell. Someone in the front ranks of the audience – Lennos' delegation maybe – had chuckled at Amelia's comment. Vanlac had realized he would not score any more points by continuing as he had, and moderated his rudeness.

Regin had then presented the other new Embassy staff. The strangely-dressed fellow, it appeared, was just a visitor who had traveled with the delegation from Elmikia out of curiosity. He was introduced as Master Terrin. Despite seeming to be the Duke's friend, Terrin was actually quite charming and friendly. Most of the other new staff were not. Several of the older Elmikian staff in attendance, who had worked with Amelia or Philionel in the past, had had the grace to look miserable and confounded at the turning of events but Amelia knew more trouble was on the horizon. This was just a first taste. Vanlac definitely fell into the category she defined as evil': cold, calculating, intentionally rude or mean as needed, hardhearted and itching for a fight. Even now, a day later, she wanted to smash him silly with the Hammer of Justice.

She shifted the arm that had supported the weight of her head while she leaned in worried thought. It had gone to sleep. Realizing she had been musing for quite awhile, she glanced at the water clock on the mantelpiece. Her hair standing on end, she broke out in a cold sweat, on the verge of open panic.

"H-hunh? Whaaaa? I must have dozed off for a bit! Ambassador Regin will be here in just fifteen minutes!"

In answer to her predicament – she was still in her somewhat scanty after-bath wear – Lady Matilda, gray-haired and iron-willed chief of the Palace household staff, bustled into the room, followed by several ladyservants "Amelia, dear! What are you doing? Daydreaming like you were eleven again, no doubt! Haha! I've taken the liberty of selecting clothes for your meeting with that old fox Regin, since you were obviously too busy napping when I checked in!" Auntie Matilda was somehow related the Seyruun Family, but Amelia had never been told exactly how.

Matilda clapped her hands and Amelia, protesting profusely, was surrounded in a dizzying whirlwind of activity "Waaagh! Gack! Auntie! Wait!" She was manhandled into formal clothes and her hair was simultaneously rearranged with crisp efficiency. Amelia suddenly had all-too-probable visions of her upcoming Birthday celebrations: Matilda and her ruthless army of Ladies-in-Waiting ready to pounce from behind every corner and makeover the Princess between events. In a flash of pure mischief, Amelia decided to deflect Auntie – who had seen far too little of Amelia for her own liking in the last five years and seemed too ready to correct for it – into remaking her friends if they ever showed up. The thought of Lina Inverse trapped in the middle of a maelstrom like the one Amelia was in now made the Princess howl and double over with laughter. This threw the dozen hands trying to comb locks, straighten pleats, or affix jewelry into dismayed chaos as she convulsed.

Auntie Matilda looked over sharply "Goodness, wherever did that come from? You haven't laughed like that in more than a year!"

Amelia rubbed her eyes clear of mirth. "You're right, Auntie, and I'm only just now realizing how much I must have been worrying everyone. I I just had a terribly funny idea that I want to discuss with you. It has its risks, though." Then the image of Zelgadis in such a domestic whirlwind rose up in her mind's eye and she was convulsed with laughter again. She could almost hear his exasperated "Amelia!" or "What's going on?!? What's happening to me? Aaaaugh!" as his hair was primped, collar tugged and nose powdered, and that just made her laugh harder.

Auntie smiled. A half-day's rest and already the Princess was regaining her irrepressible good humour? Matilda felt Amelia had taken on too much too soon after her last strange voyage, and some needful healing had been held up. It would have to wait a little longer, though. 

"Tell me about it later, then, Dear. Right now you have work to do." To emphasize her point, several more servants shuffled in, bearing a silver tea service and assorted cakes, cheese and pastries. Secretary Frederick followed close behind.

She sighed at being forced back into the suddenly murky continental politics that had been so nagging at her. Her Responsible Princess half contrasted too much with the just briefly revisited, sorely missed, and suppressed happy-go-lucky half. Right then she decided to start involving herself a lot more in preparations for her upcoming Big Day. And maybe look for some new hobbies. If nothing else, it would distract her from irritated brooding like this morning's. She gave a game grin to Auntie and Frederick, then sat down to compose herself for the upcoming meeting while the servants filed out and Matilda took position by the tea service. Amelia realized that her Auntie – no fool – had kept up to date with events. If Count Regin were at all concerned about this meeting there would be no faceless servants to raise worries of informants. There would only be two members of the Seyruun Blood Royal, though one's was fuzzy, and the undeniably trustworthy Frederick. She grimaced inwardly that such careful considerations had seemingly become necessary, literally overnight. Then came the rap on the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

****

NEXT CHAPTER: Hints of trouble? And WHO is coming to visit Sailoon?

* * * * * * * * * *

Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!


	5. News and Unexpected Visitors

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

* * * * * * * * * *

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CHAPTER FOUR

News and Unexpected Visitors

Amelia stood up to offer her hand as Count Regin strode into the room, with only his oldest and longest-serving assistant accompanying him. His face was smiling, presumably for the benefit of the rest of his escort standing outside the door. The smile did not reach his eyes, however; they reflected Amelia's own worries.

Playing gracious, unconcerned host for all she was worth. Amelia gave Count Regin a proper formal embrace, then nodded politely to the Count's escort in compliment of their diligent service. Regin played along, and had even brought a prop. He pulled out a small, ribbon-wrapped box of Elmikian chocolates "For old times' sake you DO still like them, don't you Highness?"

"Do I? Oh yes. Thank you!" she didn't have to fake her gushing as Regin presented the box with a flourish and small bow, his aging joints creaking a little. Elmikian chocolates were widely considered the best. Amelia opened the box and pulled out a cherry crème delight and popped it into her mouth. Taking his arm and moving towards the table, she gushed a little more, now for the benefit of the escort "Yum! You don't know how much Ive missed your chocolates, nor how much I'll miss them in the future and they go so well with this tea"

Matilda closed the door as Amelia said this, too quickly for the escort to protest gracefully when they realized they weren't invited. Several Seyruun servants materialized to herd the Elmikians to an anteroom where they would be served some light refreshments of their own.

Back inside the Solar, Amelia and Regin let out a mutual pfhoo', then sat down.

Regin began. "Thank you Princess. How ever did you guess most of the escort are ears for Duke Vanlac?"

"It seemed a safe enough assumption. Besides, their Captain wasn't the one I've seen leading your guard every time for the last year." She paused, a little of her previous day's temper building. Her expression turned severe "Now, Regin, what's this all about? What's with that Vanlac?! He makes my heart burn with Righteous outrage just by standing in the same room! What is your country thinking by sending him here? It's not to be diplomatic, that's for sure!! And you know subterfuge and closed-door meetings are not Seyruun style, at all! I don't like this situation very much!" 

Count Regin cringed into his seat, eyes bugged out at the Princess' tone. Flames seemed to be flickering around her head and shoulders. Regin's assistant was cowering behind the clipboard he had raised as a shield.

"Ahem. Your Highness, please! I apologize but I had no idea until a couple of days ago! I will explain, but give me a moment to frame my thoughts. By coming here I feel I am doing right by my nation and my old King, but I may very well be committing treason in the mind of my soon-to-be King, Tyrien."

Amelia, suddenly understanding his predicament, flashed to sympathy. "Is it that bad in Elmikia? What's going on there?"

Regin took a deep breath. "In some ways it is that bad, yes. Listen. As you know, your great-grandfather's clever marriage brought in fresh, ambitious and talented blood to your line, energizing it. Your Grandfather, first product of that union, and King Malthos were fostered together and were great friends in their youth. Malthos was wise enough to recognize your Family's new potential and elected to support your Grandfather's vision and Prince Philionel's after him, rather than oppose them. He knew he would be ceding first place in continental affairs to Saillune, but thought it inevitable anyway and chose the route of peaceful acceptance and support. The alternative would only have provoked war."

Amelia nodded. "Yes, I see" this was old history to her, though she was hearing the Elmikian point-of-view for the first time.

The Ambassador continued. "Now Malthos is dying, after a long and popular reign: popular, at least, with the common people who see the peace and prosperity it has brought. But not with some of the powerful noble houses who saw Malthos' behaviour as a shameful betrayal of Elmikia's ambitions — or at least what those Nobles thought those ambitions should be."

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, no. I see where this is leading"

Regin nodded somberly. "There's more. The Crown Prince, Tyrien, is a capable man but he is not the measure of your own father. Furthermore, King Malthos was always very vocal in his praise of Prince Philionel, as the son of his best friend. That was the only blind spot in Malthos' wisdom: Prince Tyrien felt himself being compared to your own father almost daily and did not take it well. He resents your family's influence, success and popularity. Naturally, he gravitated to those disgruntled Nobles at Court who already disliked Saillune. In particular, Tyrien was drawn to the powerful and dangerous man who had married Malthos' youngest sister"

Amelia grimaced. "Let me guess: The Duke Vanlac"

With a sigh, Regin confirmed it."Precisely, Princess. Vanlac saw a chance and widened the wedge between Tyrien and Malthos with all his considerable strength. Tyrien willingly complied. Royal Father and Royal Son have barely spoken in three years. Now, the two of them, Duke Vanlac and Prince Tyrien, are dedicated to reasserting the Elmikian Empire. As far as I can tell, Prince Tyrien just wants to humble your family and to shore up his own, battered ego. He also wishes to weaken Saillune's influence to the point where Elmikia and Saillune are equals again. It is he who has ordered Vanlac here, to stir discontent, and hopefully begin building a faction large enough to provide an alternative vision of the future to your father's, or at least insure that your country must compromise with his to attain your goals."

"Oh. That's understandable, considering he doesn't like my father or me or Saillune. It's just routine continental politics. Why the fuss? Oh Vanlac"

"Yes Princess, Duke Vanlac is another matter. He is an ambitious man and an old-school Elmikian Imperialist. He is a military man of some talent, and sees Saillune as the one obstacle to Elmikia's divine right to rule the continent. He is wise enough to see a war with your country, now, would be a losing affair but in the future? What if Tyrien's plans to reduce your prestige and influence are successful? What if he finds more, or stronger, Allies than expected? At the very least, I think Vanlac would like to add Atlass City to Elmikia. If he could manage that, he would probably leave the rest of Saillune be."

Frederick had been frowning, and held up his hand. "Sorry. Back up a second. Elmikia's DIVINE right to rule the continent? Where did that come from?"

Regin blinked. "I, um. Hum. Well, Princess, Secretary, there is a religious sect in Elmikia that predates the War of the Monster's Resurrection a thousand years ago. It has had little influence since that terrible event, but it has survived. This sect believes it, and Elmikia, were mandated by some of the highest Ryozoku gods to lead all humankind and, in so doing, vanquish the Evil and Darkness from all human souls. They were the dominant religion in the lands now occupied by the Elmikia Empire just before the War of the Resurrection. Not many take them very seriously, now, but their priests still have real power in White and Astral magic, though not the lost Holy Arts that were the original foundation of their power. It is no coincidence that the Elmikia Lance and Elmikia Flare spells are so named; they were first developed, if the records are correct, by members of this religious order to combat Mazoku."

Amelia rose to her feet. "Huhhh? You mean a man — a _villain_ - like Vanlac is an adherent of this Ryozoku-allied order that is so obviously dedicated to Light and Justice?" Her face registered shocked disbelief.

Regin could only shrug. "Vanlac is an ambitious man, but considers himself an honourable one. Perhaps explaining that one of his favourite hobbies is hunting the Mazoku Hounds of Hell, the Garm that raid out of the Desert of Destruction into his lands will give you an insight? What evil he has, if it truly is such, is rooted in purely human desires for power and glory. He despises the Mazoku and what they represent as much as anyone. And legend holds this Elmikian sect was at the forefront in stirring human participation in the War of the Resurrection, which is why they fell out of favour afterwards. The Ryozoku and their servants are dedicated to Peace, Life and Protection, but sometimes their way of accomplishing it has, in the past, left something to be desired."

Amelia nodded slowly, knowing far more about that than anyone would have guessed. The Supreme Elder had casually bargained away the fate of other worlds to protect' this one, hadn't he? Maybe this obscure Elmikian faith followed an equally warped philosophy.

Frederick decided to sum up. "So, Ambassador, what you are saying is that there is a new and ambitious Monarch on the scene who has personal issues with Saillune and is anxious to sow his newfound oats: not an uncommon situation. He is allied to an ambitious Duke who may or may not be a religious fanatic, and who may or may not try to pick a war with Saillune in the future, depending on how things evolve in the next fewwhat? Months? Years?"

Regin nodded a little sheepishly. "Put that way, it doesn't sound so serious but don't underestimate them, please."

Frederick reassured him. "Never that. I am just trying to put things in context. Princess, it thankfully seems we may only have a serious problem that needs an eye kept on it, and not an imminent catastrophe. We have time to try dealing with it peacefully, without resorting to extreme measures."

Amelia gave him a sour look. "Say what you mean Mister Frederick. Extreme measures' is a sorry euphemism for open warfare."

"Sorry, Your Highness." He didn't sound very sorry, though.

The Elmikian Count rubbed his hands. "Is there anything else you wish to ask Princess? Or can we settle ourselves to pleasant remembrances of your childhood while partaking of all this wonderfully prepared food?" He gestured towards the plates of goodies and the pot of tea.

Amelia and Frederick smiled their willing agreement. Lady Matilda, who had silently taken everything in, moved to begin pouring. Frederick was only able to linger for one cup before having to return to Morning Court duties. As he was leaving he took Lady Matilda aside a moment, speaking softly, and then winked in Amelia's direction

Amelia, Matilda and Regin chatted animatedly for a half-hour, dwelling in particular on fond memories of Amelia's long lost older sister Gracia. Tea and pasties alike were slowly demolished. Finally, the Ambassador stood up and bowed.

"Forgive me Princess. I have already taken too much of your time"

"And your escort of Vanlac's lackeys will be getting impatient and suspicious." Amelia completed his thought for him.

Regin grinned. "Precisely. Highness, I am to be relieved of my duties as of tomorrow morning, but am permitted to remain in Saillune until the end of your Birthday Celebrations. I doubt, however, that we'll have another chance for an informal private goodbye; once Duke Vanlac is in charge, I will no doubt be ordered onto a short leash."

Princess Amelia gave him a hug. "Don't worry. And no matter what happens in the future, I'll always think well of my Elmikian Uncle Regin' who would smuggle me chocolates behind my mother's back." Something was nagging at the back of her mind, so she stepped back, a question in her eyes. The Count waited expectantly.

"Ambassador, I just realized I do have one last question. You used to be a scholar and historian in your land, right? Is Tyrien that common a Royal name in Elmikia?"

Regin was thoughtful. "Actually no, Princess. Tyrien will only be the second ruler of that name in, ooooh almost a thousand years. It's actually not all that common anywhere, as it has origins in that sect that has fallen out of favour."

Amelia scratched her head "Then, who is that strange fellow Master Terrin, and why is his name so similar to Tyrien's? You seemed awfully uncertain yesterday about who he was and what he was doing in this delegation."

"I humm. You're right, Princess. All I was able to get from Terrin is that he is an acquaintance of Vanlac's who had a great desire to see the wonders — Princess included — of Saillune City. When I asked a few other servants, they said he only joined them the very morning of their departure, though indeed in Vanlac's company. I found a lone talkative old house servant of Vanlac's who revealed that Terrin and Vanlac had only met at a last minute meeting with the Crown Prince, as far as he knew, the night before leaving. They seemed to hit it off quite well, though. Which is a surprise. Vanlac has never been known to get along with charming fops like Master Terrin, in the past. I wonder who he is?" He paused pensively, then his eyes widened slightly and his face paled

"What is it Regin?"

"Princess, I No. I just had a ridiculous thought. I will not say anything yet, but I was a scholar and there is a popular old Elmikian epic mentioning a Terrin that I must check. I'll have my assistant here get word to you if I find anything. And now, I must really take my leave. Best wishes, and I hope to see much of you during the upcoming festivities!"

Regin hurried out the door to join his gathering escort, a strange expression on his face. Princess Amelia and Lady Matilda were left scratching their heads, each with a monster sweatdrop. They finally turned to each other and shrugged.

"What do you suppose that was that all about, Auntie? Getting all mysterious and then dashing off like that, I mean?"

"I don't know, Highness. But dashing off mysteriously usually means a surprise, good or bad, and I doubt with Elmikia the way it is that it will be much to the good."

Amelia sagged. "Oh Dear. Mister Terrin was so charming, the only nice person in the whole Elmikian crowd yesterday, after Regin. OhhhhI hope he's not turning out to be a villain, too!" 

Then she remembered Frederick's behaviour just before he left. "Auntie? Speaking of surprises, Frederick obviously left one in store for me. Is it good or bad?"

Matilda smiled "Good! Frederick asked that I inform you that you aren't the only one who wishes they could enjoy this sunny weather. All the delegations expected this afternoon — Elmikia's included! — have canceled their appointments. It seems you have the afternoon off. And, you are expressly forbidden by him, in his nominal remaining capacity as the trainer appointed by your Father, to use the time to catch up on work your new undersecretary is fully equipped to do himself!"

Amelia's smile was the sun coming out from behind dark clouds.

* * * * * * * * * *

Princess Amelia decided to spend the afternoon just quietly wandering the Palace grounds, to relax and meld into some of its life. The Palace was huge, a city within a city, with maybe as many as twenty thousand inhabitants: Royal Guards, servants, regular army soldiers of the Saillune garrison, groundskeepers, smiths, stablemasters, craftsmen of all types, visiting dignitaries, sorcerers and scholars. It was impossible to know everything going on, especially for her, normally tied up as she was in the rarified and exclusive air of the Palace's High Court.

In a fit of nostalgia, she had decided to throw on her now slightly worn adventuring garb. As a Princess, she could easily have had a replacement outfit made, by any of an army of skilled seamstresses on staff but it just didn't seem right. She and those clothes had seen too much together. One knee had become worn, and there was a little tear in the seat of the pants she thought could have happened when she had slipped that last time at the DarkStar Gate, just before joining Zelgadis in wielding Rag D'Mazegis. She knew a mending spell or two, however, which was why the oft torn and battered outfit was still wearable, and she had applied them liberally. It felt funny with only one bracelet, when she was used to two, but the other was serving a very good cause, so she put up with it.

There had been a practical reason for her decision as well. People often overlooked things that didn't meet their expectations, and her adventuring clothes did not meet anyone's expectation of the Crown Heiress to Saillune. Even the Personal Guard hadn't recognized her in it, that time she had come back from Xoana and Atlass City to find her Father had been assassinated'. Basically, it made it a little easier for her to blend in and not have people bowing and scraping everywhere she went. She had decided to forego a formal Guard for the same reason.

She wandered for several hours, visiting the stables and some workshops — at almost eighteen, she still enjoyed watching a smithy hammer at his steel, or drinking fresh rainwater while watching a cooper coax staves into becoming a new barrel. To her they were arts as mysterious and no less miraculous than her sorcery would be to the common craftsmen. She sauntered through the gardens and found an old gardener she hadn't talked to in years. He had once tended Amelia's mother's rose gardens, so he recognized the Princess but knew her well enough to respect her need for an illusion of anonymity. They chatted awhile, he telling of the passing of his wife and of the consolation a half-dozen grandchildren gave him. He had given her a fresh-clipped white rose with a nod and a wink. Amelia now wore it in her hair. She had detoured through part of the regular army's Saillune Garrison barracks yards, where young men hacked at pells and practiced their archery or marching drill. Amelia briefly wondered if she would someday have no choice but to order them off to die for her, and whether she would have the strength to do it. Then she had begun circling back to the Central Palace, passing through another formal garden, this one near the Court Library and silent except for chirping birds and a few scholars with books, some on benches, others parked under trees. One or two who had taught her sorcery waved greetings to which she gave enthusiastic replies. She drifted through the walled yard behind one of the big staff kitchens where literally a hundred fresh loaves — she stopped to count them — lay cooling under cloths to keep off flies. Once again complete anonymity escaped her, but not without reward: a bakemistress spotted the Princess and handed her a piping-hot half-loaf loaded with fresh jam. It was early in the strawberry season, being the first week of June. Amelia had smiled her thanks as if the cook had done her a favor and not what was technically an obligation.

Amelia finished her loaf to find her circuit almost complete. She was passing through part of the Royal Guard barracks attached to the Central Palace when she suddenly heard whistles of appreciation and a few good-natured jibes and jeers coming from a side-yard, interspersed with the mixed clang and clatter of blade on wood. She decided to check it out.

The sight that greeted her was an unexpected one. Several off-duty guards, some standing, some leaning or seated casually, were watching another guard with a dulled practice blade taking on an odd old man holding a quarterstaff. Amelia's first impulse was to jump into what initially seemed to be a bullying session. Then she realized the thought shamed her Royal Guard's honour, and decided to hang back in the shadowed archway and let them acquit or indict themselves. The old man seemed to be smiling, anyway. She studied him. He was wearing an odd, dark button-up robe. The only hair she could see was a long, thin grey moustache. His bald, or maybe shaved head, sported some sort of patterned skullcap in gold, black and white. Then she noticed something that made her sit up and take note: his skin tone was definitely leaning to bronze or golden, and his eyes were naturally narrowed and angled by some extra folds of his eyelids. Amelia had only seen a few people like that before, and all of them in the Outer World.

The friendly bout, as it quickly proved to be, got underway with a few probing taps from the swordsman. The guards were mostly jeering their own man, she discovered, when with a sudden flurry the old man almost disarmed his opponent, eliciting appreciative whistles. The old man stepped back to politely give his challenger room to regain balance. What came next was almost too quick to follow. The Royal Guard launched into a series of high and low attacks and seemed to be beating back the staff-wielder. Then the old character proved that assessment wrong. He suddenly twirled his staff behind him, and held it there with both hands. He proceeded to dodge every attack by the swordsman with an amazing series of ducks, feints, flips and hops! Then the staff suddenly twirled back to the forefront and he demonstrated a series of parries, while keeping up a commentary. Amelia edged closer to hear his accented but clear instruction.

"You see, though the staff is considered a humble farmer's weapon in your land, in the hands of one trained well to its use it is a match for the noble sword. This is because, unlike a sword, the two-ended staff is functionally two one-handed weapons. You are no doubt trained to face double blades and know how difficult it is to face such, even with a shield. Now, you are no doubt thinking that a staff is disadvantaged by really being a single weapon, joined in the middle. This does make it less flexible than double blades, but the disadvantage is more than made up for by three things. Firstly, by being joined in the middle, it is much easier to learn to control than two separate weapons, an art that requires true natural talent. Secondly, you can use a parry or deflection by one end to leverage an attack by the other, effectively turning your opponent's power back against him. And, by sliding your hands to one end or another, you gain all the advantage of a single two-hand blade in terms of reach and force of the distant swinging end." He proceded to demonstrate by suddenly parrying hard, stepping backwards out of range of the Guard's backswing while sliding hands, and bringing down a crushing blow to the neck-shoulder joint with his weapon that had suddenly gone from three to six feet in reach. It snapped just short of contact under the old man's iron control.

The Saillune Guardsmen who had technically just been killed let out a yelp and sweatdropped, glancing at the staff that was just grazing his skin. The old man whipped the staff back and bowed deeply. The guard just rubbed at the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Thanks, old man. Why don't more people use the staff then?"

"The one great disadvantage of the staff is it is a solo fighter's weapon. It requires too much freedom of motion to ever be effective as a formation weapon for large numbers of soldiers."

"But one man could hold off several, if he was good with the staff, right?" 

"Yes, but a good swordsman can too. All else being equal, it is probable, however, that a solo staffsman could hold off one or two more than a swordsman of equal skill, simply because the two ends of his weapon allow simultaneous defense of both sides or front and back. It is much harder to get good coverage with a sword, or even sword and shield, unless one is very skilled and very fast." The old man had been glancing around as he spoke and suddenly noticed the girl leaning in the shadows. He let her notice him noticing without alerting the guards who were all facing away from her and didn't know there was a Royal in the audience. Then he continued in a different vein.

"There is one other great advantage to the staff: it is easy to _not_ hurt a person with it. A staff can jab or bash bellies and ribs to knock out someone's breath. It can trip an opponent up, or jab at toes to distract or unbalance. In more dire circumstances, it can be used to club an obstinate head into unconsciousness. A skilled staffsman can strike nerve points. All of these are hard, or impossible, to do without drawing blood or killing when using a sword. Thus unlike a sword a staff can be used to effectively disable, without inflicting any lasting harm. And a staff also allows such tactics with more safety than comparable unarmed combat techniques, especially against armed opponents. An unlucky thrust results in a lopped-off length of wood, and not a lopped-off length of arm or leg. And, there is always the bonus of reach: a staff plus full arm extension can give eight to ten feet of reach, as opposed to at most four or five with kicks and punches. An excellent combination can also be afforded by using unarmed techniques in conjunction with a staff"

The old man slipped a wink to Amelia, who realized he knew exactly who she was and had been speaking for her benefit. He then demonstrated a few moves, using his staff as a vault to greatly increase the range of flips, springs and leaps by planting it end first. He finished with thoroughly dramatic but effective-looking half and full spinning high kicks performed with the staff as axle and the martial artist — what else could he be? - gripping its upper end. Amelia's hands were clasped and her eyes became starry. It all looked so _cool_!

"As a last note, staffplay can of course reliably block many unarmed attacks without the attendant risk of bruising or fracturing afforded by using arms and legs for such purposes. A particularly effective defense is to align the staff with the whole arm, or the forearm, for a block. The staff absorbs the greater part of the blow and distributes it the length of the limb, protecting the bones. In all fairness, however there is one set of bones that the staff puts at inordinate risk: the fingers, of course. The most common afflictions among retired staffsmen are crippled and whole or partially missing fingers. I would suspect, however, that in a land with advanced healing magic, such mishaps would be a temporary, if painful inconvenience. And in my land, special gauntlets, though reducing fine control, have proven to protect against many such injuries."

Amelia knew she had been hooked. A staff was utterly appropriate to a sorceress wasn't it? And she was already a good unarmed fighter. She had idly thought that some sort of weapon — if only for reach and the reduced risk to her arms and legs — might be a good idea. It had started with the scepter-like mace given to her by the Villagers of Justice, and reinforced shortly thereafter by the requirement of wielding Neyzard in that final confrontation with DarkStar. She had vowed years past, however, to never use edged weapons, and had been at a loss regarding what other sort of weapon would be appropriate. Curiously, the odd old man, whose name she didn't even know, had presented her with the perfect choice, while defeating every objection she might have raised to learning it. And, hadn't she promised herself to look for a new hobby or two only a couple hours past? How could he have come to know so much about her?

Amelia had just about resolved to step forward and ask the old man, when she was distracted by a sudden ruckus from the main Palace yard. She turned to see what could possibly be the cause. Soldiers were pouring out of the Duty Shift offices. A fair number of upper-level Palace staffers and courtiers were congregating by the Palace Gate. That at least ruled out some sort of attack. 

Several of the off-duty Guardsmen had come up alongside the Princess, also curious. They hadn't really noticed her presence in the archway shadows, all focussed as they were on the distant show. One finally said "Say, isn't that His Royal Highness?"

Upon hearing this Amelia began scanning the crowd. She quickly spotted her father's unmistakable silhouette.

A different guard spoke up. "So it is! Is this some sort of delegation for Her Highness' Birthday, then?"

"Must be important folk if the Prince came to greet them. Do you see the Princess?"

The old man had come to see the commotion as well. His voice was droll. "Wait, yes, I think I do. Pretty lass isn't she?"

"What? Where?" Several guards screened the sun from their eyes, trying to make out her form in the crowd.

This was too much for Amelia. Picking one she was sure she recognized and choking back laughter she called out "Right here! About five feet to your left, Mister Kaelen!"

The guards all collapsed into an embarrassed heap. The strange, irrepressible old man threw the Princess another wink from across the pile. Amelia decided to give the Guards a chance to redeem themselves.

"Gentlemen, if you will go grab your pikes, you can accompany me as honour guard and get a firsthand look at what this is all about." They all jumped to their feet and within seconds had formed up behind her. Then they marched smartly across the main Palace yard to the Gates. The old man, unnoticed, trailed along in their wake.

* * * * * * * * * *

Amelia was at her Father's side just as soon as her impromptu Guard escort could clear a path through the crowd.

"What's going on, Daddy? This looks like we're getting ready to greet visiting Royalty, but we aren't expecting any, are we?"

"Daughter! There you are! Wahha-ha! We may have not been expecting any, but some seems to be on its way!"

"Who is it? What King is friendly enough to us, to leave his Kingdom just for my Birthday?"

Auntie Matilda, on Phil's other side, replied "We don't know, Highness. Two carriages, one obviously Royal by its gilt and flags, passed the city gates a half-hour ago. But no one could recognize the flags, nor the uniforms of the escort, and the carriage curtains were drawn."

"Whaaaa? No one could recognize the flags? How is that possible? Are they Outer Worlders?" Then Amelia had a sudden premonition. There was one Kingdom that may well have changed its flags recently. Cold butterflies settled in the Princess' stomach.

Her fears were confirmed five minutes later, when the arriving procession cantered smartly into the Palace Yard. Saillune trumpeters welcomed the newcomers with a fanfare, Guardsmen did all manner of fancy things with their pikes. But Amelia could only stare at one thing. The flag carried at the front of the column was a diagonally split black and red field, bearing a gruesome face: a bizarre, collage-like mishmash of protrusions that were at once both fangs and horns, or maybe neither.

The Princess could only squeak out an aghast little "Ohhh nooo"

The visiting Royal carriage pulled up in front of Amelia and Philionel. The same bizarre face was embossed on the carriage doors.

A footman stepped down, pulled out a little stool, and opened the door. All of the Sailleese were breathless, wondering who was going to come out of the door. Amelia, the only one who knew, had gained a mildly sick expression_. This is going to be utterly ridiculous_ she braced herself for the inevitable onslaught of ego and enthusiasm that would follow shortly.

At an unseen signal, the visitors' escort came to attention. The footsoldier's heels clicked-to in unison. The horseman whipped out trumpets, and then began a fanfare of their own.

An elegant, crowned but hard-faced young man, with the fine bearing and balance of a master swordsman stepped out of the carriage. His presence nixed Amelia's last hope. If Royal Consort Zangulus were here, only Queen Martina of Xoana could be next to step out of that carriage. He bowed to Amelia, to cover a wink and amused smile at her predicament. The Princess idly wondered what it was with everyone winking at her today. Then the man turned to the door and with a gentlemanly gesture helped out the expected Monarch. The fanfare reached a crescendo, abruptly cutting off the moment Martina's foot touched ground. There was the briefest pause, then the assembled Xoanans boomed out their announcement.

"LONG LIVE QUEEN MARTINA OF XOANA! FOR THE GREATER GLORY OF ZOAMELGUSTAR!" A significant portion of the attending Sailleese were flattened by the blast. Or, maybe, by the remarkably revealing cut of Queen Martina's black clothes.

Martina was in her element, drinking in being the center of attention, but mistaking mouth-gaping surprise for awed rapture at her beauty. She squealed just a little, and one could almost make out little drifting sparkles and rose petals in the air around her. Of course, one might then have noticed the footman on top of the carriage sprinkling and tossing the rose petals over his queen 

Amelia tried to recover some control of the situation.

"M-M-Miss Martinaand Mister Zangulus How nice to see you again! Aheheh You have taken us utterly by surprise. T-To what do We owe the honour of this visit?"

"Yes! It is I! Martina of Xoana! Heehee! We have come to bring the blessings of Zoamelgustar to our dear friend and comrade-in-arms, Princess Amelia, on her eighteenth birthday. Viva Zoamelgustar! Viva Seyruun! Heh? Huah? Wha?" She glanced about, seeming to look for something.

Amelia quaveringly asked: "Uh-uh-umm? Miss Martina? Can I help you?"

Martina gave Amelia an accusing glance. "What, aren't there any little ones around yet? What are you waiting for? Haven't you landed yourself a good man yet? I was so hoping that my dear angels would find some nice Seyruun playmates while they visited!"

This said in front of the assembled Saillune Court, who were now collectively sweatdropping enough to rescue a small nation in drought.

Amelia blushed crimson, right to the roots of her hair. "L-L-Little ones? Martina! I'm not even eighteen yet! Come on!" She latched onto anything that would deflect the subject "Wait a sec angels, a-as in plural?"

Martina grinned hugely "Aha! So I have beat you and Lina yet again! Amelia, meet my little darlings, my precious little gifts from Zoamelgustar" She gestured at her carriage. Two little twin girls, except for their hair the spitting images of their mother (though more modestly dressed), piled out. Martina picked them up "Yes, Miss Amelia. This is Zanina, and this is Margueritte. They're both almost three-and-a-half. Zanina, Margueritte, say hello to your Auntie' Amelia of Saillune."

In unison, the two little girls offered a shy little "H'lo, Auntie Melia."

King Zangulus had reached into the carriage and was now holding a third, younger child. "And this is young Crown Prince Marliss, whom we all call Marlie. He'll be two in a couple of months. Can you say hi to the Princess Amelia, Marlie?"

Marlie did not deign to speak, but offered a bashful little wave.

Amelia was enchanted enough by the children - Auntie Amelia'? How sweet! - to have partially overcome her shock at seeing Martina and Zangulus. Again. Here. In Saillune.

Philionel had also finally recovered. He walked up and ruffled Zanina and Marguritte's hair, then gave a killer backslap to Zangulus, who barely managed to retain a grip on his son. "Wa-ha-haa! So this is the new King and Queen of Xoana that Amelia has spoken so much about! What a pleasure to see that Xoana and Saillune can once again be friends! Bygones shall be bygones! Wahaha! Welcome to our Kingdom! The Lady Matilda will see to it that guest chambers are prepared! Will you join us for refreshments while arrangements are made?"

Amelia fell in behind her father and their unexpected guests, as Matilda and an army of servants set about organizing lodgings for all the Xoanans.

A flicker caught at her eye. The old man with the quarterstaff was leaning against a statue pedestal, bent over with silent laughter. Amelia decided she could snatch a word with the fellow in all the confusion and slipped over. He straightened, wiping his eyes, then bowed to the approaching Princess.

"Princess Amelia of Saillune, please forgive my mirth gained at your expense. Allow me to console you with the promise, unless I am far wrong, of a better surprise in the next three or four days?"

"What do you mean? And who are you? And --?"

The old man interrupted her by lifting a finger in instruction. The gesture was unsettlingly close to the kind used by Xelloss when making a telling point — or about to tell everyone "That is a _secret_!"

"My name is Shuei Fei Ti'anlin, a monk from the Celestial Kingdom in the far south of our world. I came to see the reopened Inside World, and quickly found out Saillune was the best place to be to observe the winds of destiny. You may not remember, but I presented myself at Court almost a year ago. Mister Frederick took me in hand, since you had just begun handling affairs and seemed at a loss for what to do with me. He arranged for a small room in a side palace near the Libraries, where I stay. I practice twice daily, in the yard where you saw me today when the weather permits, in the South Gymnasium otherwise. You would be welcome to join me in the mornings. It would be my honour to instruct you in the quarterstaff if you are of a mind to learn. And now, forgive my impertinence to one of Royal rank, but" He pointed with his staff to where Philionel and the Zoanans had started up the Palace stair "you had best hurry. Your Father or Frederick will notice you missing any moment!" He bowed again, then whisked off in a twirl of robes.

Amelia sagged. He had answered all her questions before she had asked most of them! She was jubilant he was so willing to teach her the staff, but

"There's no way he's not special somehow. Making mysterious hints, too. And throwing around words like destiny'." Amelia muttered to herself. "And when mysterious, special people show up, it means things are about to go crazy. Ohhhh, I wish Miss Lina was here!"

Then she dashed to catch up with her Father, Martina and Company before they noticed her absence.

* * * * * * * * * *

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NEXT CHAPTER: Travelling in the rain? And someone's out for blood!

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Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!


	6. Ambush!

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

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CHAPTER FIVE

Ambush!

The sounds of light rain sifted through a large forest south of Saillune City. The conditions could best be described as a falling fog, and the only actual drips that reached the soaked moss of the forest floor were what had accumulated for several minutes on the multitude of early summer leaves. It was the kind of weather that inspired toadstools and encouraged most everything but slugs and snails to hunker down and find dry shelter until it passed. Even in weather like this, though, there were usually a few curious chirps from birds and adventurous squirrels. Everything here was silent.

Amidst the silence, at least one animal seemed to be ignoring its instincts. A lone fox trotted nonchalantly along a narrow game trail, nose to ground. In drier weather he would have been orange-red, but the misting precipitation, beading on every hair of his fur coat, gave him the appearance little gray fox-ghost instead. Noticing the silence, the apparition gingerly sat down on the wet humus and raised its snout to test the air for several seconds. Abruptly the fox turned his head aside, nose wrinkling. The smell of human had been expected, but not human laced with badly unwashed body, sweaty leather, musty canvas, and oiled metal. To his sensitive nose, that was a gag-inducing miasma.

Most foxes with any sense would immediately have scrammed for cover at that smell. It usually meant trouble of the deadliest kind, like a hunter or trapper. This wasn't an ordinary fox, however, and people didn't really worry him at all. He did crouch down low, but only to avoid tipping off the stinky bandit with a careless movement.

Ears slowly rotating, nose doing double time, and extraordinary senses working hard on the astral plane, Chirk the Mazoku tried to pinpoint the source of the foul smell. Within seconds, he had picked out the bandit's location. His astral senses picked up a half-dozen others in the area, some in trees. Inching nearer the smelly one, he saw the fellow was carefully camouflaged under a dyed canvas cover and a scattering of dead leaves. An odd shape wrapped in oilskins lay close to the bandit's hand. Chirk recognized it as a cocked crossbow, covered to protect the string from the damp.

Lying down, tail covering nose for warmth and to keep out the reek – a luxury for which Chirk adored his fox form – he settled in for a wait. He decided to pass the time worrying at a problem that had nagged ever since his new orders came down. WHY was the Mistress, or at least her Lieutenant, going through so much trouble to keep a stupid human girl alive? Why were they expending _him_ – one of the best at sneaking, spying, and mischief among all the Mazoku – on such a strange job? Why was this Inverse character important to the Higher-Ups? Chirk had been out of the loop for a long time, but had gotten some news while waiting to report on his last mission. A piece of the Boss had been killed, and so had the Hellmaster and the Demon Dragon King. Big eventsmaybe this sorceress he was watching out for was involved? Was she working for the Greater Beast? Aaargh! And why, WHY after loyally serving a thousand years' vigil over that twitchy super-Ryozoku Coldwind, hadn't he been awarded with a paid vacation or something? Jeez! A single day after leaving his frozen snow bank, he had been ordered into chilly, miserable drizzle. Oh well, at least it was in civilized lands where there were humans to toy with. They were a lot more fun than ptarmigans and arctic hares

Chirk's thoughts continued in that vein for an hour or more. The human never made a sound beyond quiet breathing and an occasional faint rasp of canvas as he flexed muscles to keep them from cramping. Finally, Chirk's sensitive fox hearing picked up a different sound. Hooves five horses. Conversation, muffled by the rain three riders, moving fast with spare mounts, it seemed. Chirk strained to hear what they might be saying, while keeping an eye on the bandit. That fellow finally heard the approaching travelers and slowly reached out and began to quietly remove the wrappings from his crossbow. Then, Chirk tensed as his astral senses began to scream warning. Another Mazoku was materializing in the area, and that meant trouble. Chirk was fast, clever and sneaky, not powerful. If the new arrival was even a moderately tough member of a rival faction, Chirk could be squashed like a bug. Try as he might, though, he couldn't pinpoint the enemy's life force. The little Fox Mazoku curled himself as small as possible and tried to rein in his own astral presence.

So this was what Xelloss had sent him here for. A rival Mazoku working with carefully concealed crossbowmen lying in ambush, and obviously waiting for a specific group of travelers. Plots like that required foiling as a matter of course. But what to do? The other Mazoku had begun using its powers to abruptly thicken the mists. Still unable to pinpoint the enemy Mazoku, Chirk realized this was big stakes stuff. Only one of Lord Dolphin's Mist-Wraiths – way out of Chirk's class - could pull something like this, and for one to be so far from the ocean

The riders had been approaching steadily, quietly talking among themselves, oblivious to the danger lurking along the roadside. Suddenly, from very close by, a voice was raised in loud complaint. The fogs swirled, the crossbowman leapt up to take aim through a convenient and suddenly very clear break in the mist

Chirk grimaced. There was only one thing he could do fast enough. Praying the Mist-Wraith was too occupied to notice, the fox coiled for a pounce. He briefly wished for a few sprigs of mint, because a human that smelled that bad could only taste worse

* * * * * * * * * *

"Ooohhhhh! I hate this! Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is worse than having to travel in the rain! And on horseback! My backside is killing me. I've ridden more in the last six days than the previous six years! And I'm hungry!" Lina was slumping dejectedly in her saddle. One hand clutched at the fur-lined oilskin cloak wrapped tightly over her shoulders. Her leggings and her horse both were splattered from the knees down with mud, as the road they were on wasn't paved. She looked sourly over at Zelgadis who was riding unconcernedly, and totally dry. "Ggnnnnn! And it doesn't help that you're not being bothered by it at all. That just makes our suffering worse!"

Gourry echoed her sentiments. "Yah that's for sure. Ah-ahCHOO! Ah-choo! And I'm getting a cold!"

Zel turned to look back at them "Well, I'm sorry guys. I've promised to show Lina my notes on how to work this spell when we get to Saillune, but until then nothing can be done. I can only get it to work on the caster, and it has to be renewed every few minutes unless it's placed into an enchanted item anyway!" He fingered the small aquamarine pendant at his neck. "And I'm not going to take it off just to satisfy your perverse need to spread your own sufferings around! As for this horseback travel, at least you're not slogging through this muck on foot. Be grateful for that!"

Lina grumbled under her breath, staring off into the fog. It had begun to thicken noticeably very noticeably. Then she noticed it was awfully quiet.

Gourry looked about. "Hey, Zel? Lina? Does fog normally thicken this fast?"

Zel reined in his horse. "Now that you mention it Gourry no"

The fog suddenly swirled to Lina's left, and a perfectly clear channel appeared. Her head snapped around just in time to see a burly ruffian rising out of the brush no more than twenty feet away with a cocked crossbow pointed right at the spot between her eyes.

Lina gasped, wincing, turning her head aside. There was no time to get off a defensive spell

Gourry, hearing her gasp, turned to look. Seeing, he began to whip out his sword. But a crossbow bolt might cover the twenty feet faster than even he could move and his mount was on the wrong side of Lina's

Zel, who couldn't see the assailant, was momentarily frozen by surprise at Lina and Gourry's reactions. Then in a flash he realized they were under attack. There would almost have to be more than one. He began incanting

__

Click! went the trigger _Twang_! went the string. _Snap_! Went the limbs. The crossbow bolt shot forward

"Yaaaaaagh!" yowled the bandit. Just before firing, a small russet form had leapt up and bit onto his arm, throwing off the aim. The bolt whistled past Lina, the head and fletchings actually grazing her cheek and ear. A single red lock of hair went flying. 

Gourry's blade whistled out of its sheath. A second _snap_! came from behind him. He whirled. _Clang_! A second bolt, aimed at the middle of Lina's back, was deflected off into the trees. Lina almost dived off her saddle into the swirling narrow space between her horse and Gourry's. She risked a squashing or a nasty kick from a stray hoof, but that was infinitely preferable than a crossbow bolt to the head.

Zel completed his incantation: "Ray Wing!" and a shell of hardened air formed around Lina just in time. Two more bolts, also whistling through clear passages in the fog, ricocheted off and imbedded in nearby tree trunks, quickly followed by two more. Lina's horse screamed and went down as one of the second set of ricochets sank into its shoulder with a wet _thwack_. Lina was only saved from flailing hooves by the Ray Wing bubble.

Never one to crumble under pressure or succumb easily to surprise, Lina fired off a Burst Rondo. Dozens of small, firecracker like explosions set the roadside wet brush to smouldering heavily, creating a bit of a smokescreen. Zel did likewise on the other side of the road. They followed up with Fireballs fired at random into the undergrowth. This resulted in yells, screams, and then the sound of running as the assailants fled scattering through the brush.

Lina's expression turned vengeful as she paused, muttering under her breath, then yelled "Rune Flare!!" Spears of flame lanced into the woods, in the direction of some of the scrambling noises. Brush flew, raindrops hissed into steam, and trees toppled as she swept her hands in a broad arc. Then, a gargling cry came back. "Got one of the bastards!" she muttered, satisfied. A few sullen flames licked up to be quickly quenched by the drizzle.

The fog suddenly dissipated into nothingness, accompanied by a faint thrum-pop.

Zel and Gourry looked shocked. Lina normally limited herself to painful but ultimately non-fatal punishment against bandits. The strength of a fireball could be tuned to just singe or burn, not kill outright, but a Rune Flare was almost invariably lethal to humans.

Zel found his voice first "That was a little out of character, Lina" His voice seemed to hover between concern and approval. He was a Heartless Mystical Swordsman, after all.

Lina had reached down to pick up the severed lock of her hair, now mud-caked, and was staring at it a little numbly. She turned to her friends, face pale, obviously in real shock. 

"Maybe it'll make the others run away faster. Come on those weren't common thugs out roughing up travelers for loot. He got his just desserts! They were hired assassins, pros, obviously after _me_, and they almost _got_ _me_." Her voice broke a bit on the last. She reached up, wincing, to run a finger along her cheek, where a thin line of beaded scarlet traced the path of that first bolt. "Ow! That really stings." 

Gourry was grim. "Lina? Are you OK?" He dismounted beside her and tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling noticeably. She shrank into herself for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked up, nodding. "Yeah, Gourry. I'll be OK. Just gimme a sec to appreciate I'm still alive." She began casting a healing spell.

Zel had dismounted and walked over to the struck horse that was still neighing and thrashing on the ground, trying to get up. "Gourry! Help me here!" The swordsman glanced at Lina, who nodded and then jerked her head in Zel's direction. He walked over as Zel looked up.

"Gourry. Soothe her and try to restrain her head a little. I don't want to get bit when I pull this out." He then took hold of the bolt and jerked hard. The horse screamed again. Zel looked it in the eye and added his soothing to Gourry's, then cast a healing spell on the poor beast. Glancing at the swordsman, he quietly said: "She'll be fine, I think." Gourry wasn't sure whether he meant the horse, or Lina, or both.

The blonde swordsman looked up. "Lina? Zel? Do we go after them?"

Lina looked back at him. "I'd like to, but"

Zel, looking into with misty distance up the trail, agreed "You're right. It's too dangerous to go chasing after archers in a foggy forest. I say we ride hard for Saillune and try to get there tonight, or at least as far as possible from this forest and into populated lands" He paused. "Although, what worries me is that that may not be enough. Who could have controlled the fog like that but a Mazoku? And why what the?" Zel suddenly positioned his hands for spell casting. Lina and Gourry turned to see what he had reacted to.

A red fox had trotted out onto the road in front of them, seated itself casually, and was looking them over appraisingly. Its actions were obviously not those of a normal fox. Zel looked ready to blast off a Ra-Tilt, the powerful Astral spell able to slaughter all but the toughest Mazoku.

Gourry was the only one who had had eyes open facing the right direction to see what had spoiled that first, most deadly shot. "Zel! Wait!"

"What?"

"I think that might be what saved Lina's life!"

"What?!" Lina and Zel's heads had both snapped around to face the swordsman.

"Something jumped up and bit onto the first guy's arm. That's the only reason that first shot missed!"

Lina and Zel both turned back to study the fox. Zel kept himself ready to fire.

Lina spoke first. "What are you? Who sent you? Why are you here and, uh, thanks I guess" Her voice trailed off to nothing: could it even answer?

The fox stayed silent. Then, slowly and deliberately, it winked. After a pause it raised one forepaw to point in the direction the attackers had fled and cocked its head disapprovingly. Then it whirled, and in a flash dashed off into the forest on the opposite side of the road.

There was a pregnant pause.

Zel broke it. "Well that was clear enough. Let's ride before they get back."

Lina eyed her horse's mud-covered saddle and flanks with distaste, and sighed deeply. The remounts' saddles were cold and soaked, but at least they weren't dirty. Besides, her own mount was still skittish from being wounded. Then she saw Gourry was watching her with poorly hidden worry. 

"Lina? Are you really OK? That was pretty close"

"Of course! Jeez, Gourry, we've had closer calls! But, if I EVER find out who's responsible for this - they'll pay! Gnngngn!" She pantomimed throttling someone then forced out a laugh and waved off his concern.

Looking reassured, Gourry nodded and turned to straighten his horse's saddle and bags. Lina only wished she could so easily assuage the little cold knot of worry that had settled in her gut. As they all mounted up and began to move off at a trot, she mulled over her narrow escape. Even against Kopii Rezo and Phibrizzo, there had been an element of honourable duel to the death – of a challenge openly offered and taken up: of a chance, however small and unwillingly conceded, to defend herself to her fullest ability.

This time, though, had been different. No chances had been offered, nor warnings, nor ultimatums. Someone had tried very hard to simply, coldly, quickly end the career of Lina Inverse in a shallow, unmarked grave. Somebody had stopped playing by what she had thought were the rules, somebody who could order up a Mazoku. She shivered a little and unconsciously drew closer to Gourry and his cantering mount. The idea of a Protector no longer seemed so preposterous.

Gourry's intuition, it seemed, had kept up with Lina's rationale. He suddenly spoke up: "Uhhh, we're in big trouble again, aren't we?"

The three riders all looked at each other. Then, wordlessly, they as one shook reins and clucked their horses into a gallop.

* * * * * * * * *

They had ridden hard for many miserable, wet hours and now the forest had long since disappeared behind them. The foggy drizzle had ended and the moon now occasionally shone through clouds gone ragged. It was cool enough, however, that the horses' breath was steaming slightly. Zel seemed comfortable enough, but Lina and Gourry were obviously feeling the chill through their wet overcoats. Gourry was alternating between sneezes and sniffles. At last, after having already passed several small villages, bright lights ahead announced they were finally coming up on a sizeable town.

Lina had to shout over the drumming and splashing of hooves on puddled, wet cobbles. The road had become paved far enough back that their mud-coating had mostly been washed away by splashes, but they were still wet "Okay guys. I'm dirty, tired, cold, sore, and smell of horse. I'm also really, REALLY hungry. We're at least stopping here for a hot meal." Her tone brooked no dissent.

Zel agreed. "You're right. The horses are close to spent, and it's still a ways to Saillune if I'm right and that's the town of Aspelund. Maybe we should get some sleep, too. If we got an early start, we'd still get to Saillune City by midafternoon." He looked up to scan the sky "Faster if the weather is actually breaking again."

Gourry nodded enthusiastic approval. "Do you know a good place in the town?"

The chimera thought for a moment "Yeah, I've passed through here a few times in the last year. The _Royal Arms Inn_ is good, if expensive, and has a tavern so it will likely still be open." He smiled at Lina "It's got hot baths."

Lina stood up in her stirrups and pumped a fist in triumph. "Yesssss!"

Zel's tone turned serious. "It's also all-stone construction with metal shutters. I think it used to be a Sailleese Army barracks. It'll be safe well safe-ER, at least against humans."

"Let's go." Lina was anxious for that hot bath. Safety was only a secondary concern.

After a brief exchange with the guards at the closed gate that required a flashing of Zel's enameled royal crest, they were let into the town. Five minutes later they were in front of the _Royal Arms_. Two stableboys dashed out to take charge of the horses. They took one look at the spent, soaked, lathered animals and their faces fell. Hours of cleaning and rubbing down awaited them.

Zelgadis looked to Lina and Gourry but they were already trotting for the inviting warmth of the Inn door. He sighed then turned to look with sympathy on the lads.

"Sorry guys, but we need them and their tack cleaned for early next morning." Reaching into a purse that had thinned dramatically since Atlass City, he flipped them a pair of silver coins. "Another silver each if you can get it all done by the second hour after sunrise."

"Thanks, mister!" they replied in unison, all grins – he had just offered them almost a week's wages. They chivvied the horses into the stable. The prospect of an all-nighter didn't seem so bad with a tip like that in the offing. Zel had already turned for the Inn and waved them off without looking back.

Inside, Lina and Gourry had shucked their muddy overcloaks and dumped them into a hamper by the door. A maid was already leading them towards the baths in the basement. Zel pulled off his own outer cloak, threw it in the hamper, and hurried to catch them up.

Downstairs, the maid pointed out two doors.

"Men's bath hall is on that side, women's on the other. There's change rooms first, baths are through a second door. The baths are kinda different, if this is your first stay. Pick a basin room. Each has two spigots, hot water comes out of one, cold from the other. It takes a few minutes to fill, but that way each guest can have the water as hot as they like it. Soaps, scrubbers and towels are already there. Oh, there's an assortment of clean bathrobes in each changeroom, so feel free to leave any laundry you want done by morning in the basket with your room number." She pointed down the hall "There's back stairs down there that go straight to the second floor when you're done. Your baggage will be brought up to your rooms. Only the taproom is open this late, but there's food warming in the kitchen. You can let the maid upstairs know what you want when you're done bathing, and it'll be brought up. Have a nice stay!" She turned and headed back upstairs.

Zel looked to Lina. "What's our rooms?"

"You're in 11, Gourry's in 12, I'm in 14. I'm impressed Zel, this place is awesome."

Zel was sarcastic. "Yeah, the owner insists on the highest quality of service from his employees. Even so, his price is very reasonable: you actually get to keep your choice of one arm or one leg. Well, I'm for my bath. See ya! Coming, Gourry?"

"Right behind you Zel!" They disappeared into the men's change room.

Lina turned, then nearly sprained her neck doing a double take. Had Zel just tried to mix his sarcasm with genuine humour? No way! She must have imagined it! Shaking her head, she went through the opposite door.

Stripping out of her dirty, wet clothes was an unbelievable luxury. She was startled to discover that the room was toasty, despite being in a stone basement. The warmth seemed to radiate from the floor. Briefly wondering how that was done, she decided to leave figuring it out until after her bath. Spotting a full-length mirror, she checked herself out and sighed, just a little displeased with her assessment. _Not far from twenty What I got now I'm stuck with. The only thing that can grow anymore is my waistline, and considering my appetite that's thankfully never gonna happen if it hasn't yet. Oh well, petite, trim and athletic has its definite charms_ She gave her cheek close examination, reassuring herself the Healed cut from the crossbow bolt hadn't left a scar.

Satisfied, she grabbed a bathrobe that looked like it would fit and headed into the bath hall. The first door was shut with sounds of splashing and contented humming leaking out, so Lina picked the second. After a brief struggle to figure out the spigot system and how to close the drain, she filled her bath and slid in with a sigh of pleasure.

* * * * * * * * *

Wishing she could soak forever, Lina knew she had to get an early start and kept her bath to less than an hour. She had begun to feel muzzy-headed, and she still needed to eat, too, after all. As she padded back towards the change room, towelling her hair, the door of the first basin room also opened and its occupant stepped out. Both Lina and the newcomer opened their mouths to offer a polite greeting between strangers.

It died on their lips. Their jaws dropped and eyes widened simultaneously, registering complete and mutual shock.

" M-Miss Lina?"

"S-S-Sylphiel?"

They stood in frozen, flabbergasted tableau for a full minute.

Then Lina fell back to lean against the wall, one arm covering her eyes. Sylphiel slumped against the doorframe, face lowering into palms.

At the same time, both said: "Oh No."

Each knew the other wasn't unhappy because of real dislike. Rather, an ominous feeling had washed over both of them. It had been more than three years since their last meeting. Shortly after the first, Kopii Rezo demolished Sairaag and all its inhabitants. Shortly after the second time, they had faced Hellmaster Phibrizzo. That showdown had got them all killed one way or another, for a while at least, not to mention having brought the whole world to within a hairsbreadth of utter destruction. Lina voiced her worries first.

"Oh Great No offense, Sylphiel, but now I'm almost certain big trouble is brewing."

Sylphiel looked up and ventured a small smile. "And I was just about to ask what calamity you were heralding this time"

"You're on your way to Saillune? Please tell me you are, Sylphiel, and this isn't a total random coincidence?"

Sylphiel perked up at that. "I, well yes? Miss Amelia's Birthday?"

Lina sagged in relief and loosed her pent-up breath. "Phoo. OK, I won't panic completely unless Xelloss makes an appearance."

"Who?"

Lina remembered Sylphiel had never really met Xelloss, only interacting with him once, briefly, just after the fight with Phibrizzo. She also realized that Sylphiel – a shrine maiden and not-very-world-wise White Sorceress – might not take well to the fact that Lina was on friendly terms with the humm, fourth? most powerful Mazoku still alive and in one piece. Lina put on a desperate smile and tried to wave off the comment as unimportant.

"Uhh-hehe. Nobody. Just some guy who usually only shows up when the world is about to come tumbling down around my ears! So How have you been Sylphiel?"

Sylphiel flashed the redhead a suspicious glance, but let it slide.

"Oh, OK, I guess my Uncle died last winter, poor man, and left me most everything. I, uh, I don't suppose Dear Gourry is with you?"

THAT question was inevitable. Sylphiel had a certain fixation that had never really bothered Lina in the past. Inexplicably, though, this time Lina felt herself tense up at it. Trying to emulate the past nonchalance that had escaped her this time, Lina spun and walked into the change room with a half-shrug. Sylphiel followed.

"Yeah, of course he is. So's Zel. We ran into him in Atlass last week."

"And you're going to Saillune together? That's great! Mind if I join you?" Both were now standing in front of the large mirror, brushing tangles out of their hair. Lina hesitated for the briefest instant before answering, wiping at a damp brow with her towel.

"Sure uh, we have horses, though."

"That's OK. I've got a two-horse cart with me. I can keep up with anything less than a gallop."

"A two-horse cart? What's that all about? You were never one to lug baggage."

It was Sylphiel's turn to hesitate a little. "Oh nothing - It's just a lot farther from Uncle's old place to Saillune than Sairaag. And, I needed to pack some formal wear for Court. That's all."

Lina could tell that most certainly was NOT all, but was too tired to press the issue. She also felt rather hot. Using her headband – it was only damp, not dirty – she tied back her hair. Sylphiel was also finishing. The latter suddenly perked up at the sound of male voices from the hall.

Gourry called into their room.

"Hey Lina! You done yet? I'm really hungry, you know!"

"Yeah Gourry. Just a sec!"

Sylphiel had been brushing carefully, trying to get things perfect. She looked down at her shapely reflection, adjusted the just barely modest enough clothes, and blushed.

"Oh my! And me just in my bathrobe! Oh well, no helping it! It will be so nice to see Dear Gourry again and Mister Zelgadis, too, of course." She started towards the exit, 

For some reason, something in her tone set Lina's teeth on edge. And despite that blush, the normally overmodest Sylphiel seemed less than completely embarrassed at the idea of Gourry seeing her in a damp robe.

Sylphiel had walked out, producing a surprised babble.

"What the? Sylphiel?? Where did you oh, gods, NO" that was Zel.

"Wow! Miss Sylphiel! What are you doing here" that was Gourry, his voice trailing off just a little at the end.

Lina feeling hotter, caught herself trying to adjust the bathrobe more attractively around her own form. _What the? What's UP with me? Jeez!_ Shaking her head, she hurried to catch up with her friends.

She couldn't resist stepping back to adjust her tied-back hair one last time, so that the ponytail was a little off-center. Then she whacked herself square in the middle of the forehead and growled a bit. She was acting totally weird! She noticed her forehead was definitely a little on the hot side and mumbled to herself as she made determinedly for the exit. "That must be it, a little fever from the cold and fatigue."

Sylphiel, standing close to Gourry, was saying. " no offense taken, Mister Zelgadis. I had the same reaction when I bumped into Miss Lina in there. Haha!"

Gourry, smiling, was rubbing at the back of his head again. "Well what do you know? Fancy meeting you here Sylphiel. What's your room?"

"Number 15. Say, have you eaten yet?"

Zel, blushing a little and carefully averting his eyes from the more salient revelations of Sylphiels' clingy robe, answered. "No. We just got in and were going to grab a quick bite and head straight for bed. Ahem, we have an early start tomorrow!"

Gourry spotted Lina. To the redhead's relief, he seemed oblivious to Sylphiel's flauntings. "Hey Lina! What do you know! It's Sylphiel, who's also going to Saillune. Her room's right across the hall from you. We should invite her to supper with hey, Lina? What's wrong?"

Lina felt herself swaying on her feet. "I I don't know I feel kinda dizzy. And hot." She tried to look up, but everything was swirling, like looking through tears.

Zel's voice was concerned. "You've gone awfully pale what's up?"

"I I don't know, Zel. It feels like a fever, but it's only come on since I finished my bath" Suddenly, the floor seemed to be leaping up toward her.

"Linnnaaa!" The voice was muffled, and she wasn't sure which of Zel or Gourry somehow stopped the flying floor by grabbing her under the arms. She incongruously found herself hoping it was Gourry.

"Oh no! The assassins earlier today! What if the one that hit her was poisoned?" Lina thought that was Zel.

"Assassins? Poison? What's this about!?" Definitely Sylphiel.

"What can we do?" Gourry maybe? Sounds had become kind of fuzzy.

"DICLEARY!" Sylphiel again laying hands to Lina's head and chest?

"Let's get her upst" Lina didn't catch who spoke or what was said, because at that point she passed out.

* * * * * * * * * *

****

NEXT CHAPTER: Old plots given new life? Villains unite!

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Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!


	7. Old plots, new life

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

__

By Elderdrake

* * * * * * * * * *

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CHAPTER SIX

Old plots, new life

The same day, but far to the west of where Lina and her companions were ambushed, another plot was being set in motion. Crouched in a glade near the forested border between Xoana and Saillune was a group of about twenty men. Most were lying low and hunkered amidst ferns and youthful pine trees. They were further hidden by a flowing, dappled shade produced as an unexpected midday sun shredded and harried off the morning fog, helped by a light breeze.

All the men had bows, slings or javelins ready to hand, but were also all equipped with quite an assortment of very ugly hand weapons: spiked maces, studded hammers, tooth-edged swords, bandoliers of knives, military picks, and wavy or hooked daggers. To most commoners, they would have appeared to be a bunch of bandits, albeit better armoured and equipped than most. But anyone with decent military training would have noticed the choice of weapons and deadly quiet, and broken into a cold sweat.

The leader and another were ahead of the rest, crouched in the shadow on the Sailleese side of one of the large, white stone cairns that marked the border between Xoana and Saillune. Both men were rough and unkempt. They were talking in very low tones.

"Aye, you can hear them through the brake, can't you. Awful cocksure of them to be so noisy so close to a tense border, specially with what they be doing. I can't believe they be troops trained by Bezoar." It was the second speaking, his ear cocked in the direction of faint boisterous laughter and laughing conversation coming from a few hundred yards or so to the south.

The leader let out a derisive chuckle. "Humph. They're not. They're just regular army scrapings: the kind who can't do anything BUT soldier. Dregs left after Martina demobilized and turned her army into a Patriotic Xoanan Reconstruction Force' They sound like drunken boys at hunt, don't they?"

"That they do, ser" He cut himself off abruptly, at a signal from his boss. An odd bird cry had sounded from several yards inside Xoana. The whole clearing went quiet, except for the faint whisper of nocked arrows being drawn.

The leader's companion made his own birdcall, a different one from the first. It was answered by the sound of a chattering squirrel. "Aye, ser, it be Kurgei back from his little foray." At this, the leader waved his hidden troops back to standby.

The man named Kurgei emerged from the brush and scampered down next to the commander. "Heh, Cap'n Fane. It be as we was told. There be a couple dozen down the way busily shifting the next cairn along several yards into Saillune, and two nearer by, on horses. An' Bezoar's one of the two. The lot downways has a keg with'em, and have near on drunk it up. A couple is a'snorin' already."

The leader rubbed his hands with obvious glee. "Alrighty, then. Kurgei, take sixteen and go play with the roisterers. We don't want any wandering off before we do them up right, so be sure to cut off their escape. Leave one or two unconscious but alive enough to make a report when they're found tonight. I'll take Stafan here and four others and pay proper respects to Count Bezoar."

Kurgei pulled out a poniard and gave it a friendly pat. "Aye, Cap'n. Too easy, with em noisy and' drunk as they are. How much fun can Tooth, here, and I have?"

Captain Nartal Fane gave him a slightly disapproving look. "This is supposed to be an attack by bandits, not blood-crazed dark cultists. Nothing exotic, hear? If we've been called back together, it means there'll be plenty of opportunity for that soon enough. And you should know better than to even ask."

Kurgei grinned toothily and offered a sloppy salute. "Ser! But it be good to finally be in action, neh?"

Fane saluted back, just as sloppily. "That it is, that it is. Take your men and move out." He turned to his other companion. "Stafan, with me. Make sure Kurgei leaves us at least one other man who's good with a bow. We give Kurgei five minutes, then head out ourselves."

* * * * * * * * *

The two horsemen that Kurgei had mentioned to Captain Fane were dismounted in a medium-sized clearing. They were obviously men of both noble and martial persuasion. Their horses were lightly barded, tack and harness done up in the black and orange of House Kureyev, the second most powerful family in the Kingdom of Xoana. The two wore fine armour, obviously of high quality but only incorporating as much fancywork as effective functionality would allow. They were also of notably different age. The younger wore a hand-and-a-half sword and a long-knife at his belt. The elder, a truly imposing figure of considerable height and powerful build, carried only a greataxe, strapped to his back.

Both seemed somewhat lost in thought. The younger was regarding the elder with concern. The elder, for his part, seemed edgy as he gazed upward at the unfamiliar golden orb that had for once deigned to creep out from behind its clouds.

It was the younger who broke the slightly uncomfortable silence. "Count, my Father, you seem a little out of sorts today. What's bothering you? Normally, you're down hauling the stones with the best of them. Though why you bother occupying Saillune a few acres at a time is still beyond me."

The elder seemed startled out of some reverie. "Eh? Is my mood showing that badly? Humm, I suppose it is. Well, you know, there's a lot on my mind of late." He turned briefly to his horse and untied one of the bags attached to the saddle. "Almost noon, I reckon." He turned back and tossed the sloshing package to his son. "Good a time as any for lunch. Have a swig or two with me, and then we'll start on the food. As for my hobby alterations of the border, call it a petty revenge, all I've been able to muster so far. Consort Zangulus keeps very close tabs on me."

The son easily grabbed the proffered wineskin out of the air, pulled out the stopper with his mouth, spat that aside, and then took a long draught. "Aaaah! That's good stuff! The west Zefeerian from two no three years ago, neh?" He leaned against a convenient large boulder. His father sat down on another rock to face him.

"Aye, that it is. Been saving it for an occasion, but this seems as good a time as any. We'll call it a celebration of the sun's reappearance, short as it'll likely be." Then he turned grumpy. "Har! If you had put more effort into weapons and less into wine-tasting, boy, you could carry a decent tool and not those knitting needles." His gesture took in his son's swords. Then he reached up to pat his own monstrous axe.

The younger one bristled, more for show than for real. "So you've said many times Father. But we both know I'd never be very effective with a mammoth like that. I take too much after Mother, and my build just isn't right. I'll never have the weight to swing that thing and keep my feet on the ground." He chuckled and took another swig, then decided to change the subject. "So, WHAT is it that's been on your mind of late? Other than the usual griping over missed chances and Martina's unsuitability for the throne, that is." He offered the wineskin to his father, who waved it off.

"No thanks, in a bit Harrh! don't be getting snippy with me either! They're your missed chances as well, Yuran. You were inches from the throne, and I was inches from being the greatest general in history until three years ago. Twelve years building up an army and planning a campaign that could take out Saillune, Elmikia, and any other comers on idiot King Soros' behalf. Destroyed in an afternoon by Philionel's treacherous daughter and that pint-sized sorceress Inverse. Who'd ever have thought the Seyruun's capable of mouthing peace and platitudes while launching a devastating attack of black magic? "

Yuran had heard it all before. "You're flirting with treason again, Father Count Bezoar Sir. And as far as I know, Lese-Majesty is still on the books in Xoana. Criticizing the ruler is a capital offense. Calling the ruler an idiot outright could get you sacrificed to Zoamelgustar. Why do you persist in blaming Seyruun treachery when even Queen Martina's official line is that the Seyruun Family never behaved in any other than an honourable manner?"

"Martina is a half-wit. That's why. If Amelia of Seyruun, or that Inverse monstrosity, told Her Majesty that Her Majesty's hair was really pink and not blue, Her Majesty would believe them. All the while convincing Her Majestic Self that it was the proper Will of her dear Zoamelgus-twit."

Yuran, taking another swig at the wineskin, knew better. Martina was warped, but she was not stupid. Of course she wasn't exactly brilliant, either. He decided to humour his very bitter father, nonetheless. "If Martina is such an idiot, shouldn't you be thankful she's not bearing my children, then?"

The Count of Bezoar Castle blinked sheepishly, then guffawed explosively. "Aye, maybe so! But I rather think the Kureyevan blood would have more than made up for any shortfalls in the tired-out Xoanan blood." Then he became serious again. "But that doesn't change the fact that I, despite everyone's claim it was a fool's quest, _I_ had welded together the army, the tactics, and the plan for an army that could have conquered this whole continent. And I would have led it. The name of Kureyev would have been seared into history. By gods, you could have had your pick of Royalty, and your sons — my grandsons — could have sat on a half dozen different thrones."

Yuran couldn't stop himself, despite knowing it would get his father truly mad. "I'm quite happy with my seat on the Royal Council, Father. Can't we just let things be? Our family motto has always been Whatever it Takes', true enough. But to do what you want, now Kureyevs have never been disloyal to the crown!"

Father crossed his arms and spat to his side. Standing up, he turned his back to his son, and gazed at the sky. "Faugh! You have no ambition. Truly, you do take after your mother. Listen: our motto has always meant exactly what it says. While Kureyev ambition has long marched in step with Xoana's, no Kureyevan man ever gave up his dedication to the family's advancement. We were independent rulers of our own land until my Grandfather's youth!" He turned back to his son, voice dropping low with his intensity. "At that time, Whatever it Took' was an alliance with the Xoana Family. But now, Xoana is just a smothering blanket on our family's rightful place in history. _My_ rightful place in history. Mark my words, son. I will do Whatever it Takes' to insure that place for our family. And I will do it with or without your approval. You will inherit it. Someday, you will come to appreciate it." He paused. "And, I can perhaps get my HA _Just_ revenge on the Seyruuns in the process."

Yuran was used to his father's intense devotion to ambition, but this was the worst he'd ever seen. Where had he suddenly found this energy, and the will and motivation to go this far, so suddenly after three years of mostly harmless, sulking pettiness?

Then, it dawned on him: his father's strange houseguest. She had come knocking on the Kureyev door, two weeks past, with an introduction letter signed by several bitter ex-military men in the capital. She presented herself as someone who thought an effort to bring Saillune down several pegs was long overdue. Father had been closeting himself with her in long, private meetings for over a week.

"Good gods, father! By the Flames of Cepheed, what price did she offer that could buy your loyalty? And, though I agree with you and her that Seyruun power is too great and must be curtailed somehow, what in Hell can the two of you do?"

Count Leyion Kureyev let out a derisive snort. "Buy my loyalty? Bah, you still don't understand, do you? I am loyal to the Kureyev name and my destiny only. No one can buy that loyalty. She is merely the herald of opportunity. And what she can offer is no business of someone who stubbornly adheres to a defective monarch, and merely gripes about Saillune's power with his drinking companions, rather than doing something about it."

Yuran ignored the personal attack, trying to keep things objective. "Some herald. I don't like it, Father. She's dangerous, of that I am sure very dangerous. My hair stands on end just sharing the same roof with her."

Now his father looked on him with amusement, but there was measurement in his eyes as well. "You have a lively imagination, don't you, son? She is merely a professional agent perhaps, a professional assassin a mercenary hired to sound out potential allies, for someone wise enough to know Saillune's oh-so-vaunted justice' is quite lethal to anyone discovered trying to disrupt Seyruun hegemony."

Yuran cut him off angrily. "Exactly! Who _is_ this someone'?" He bit himself off and struggled to regain his temper. "No. Forget I asked that. I doubt you'd answer anyway... if you even know or care." He drew in a deep breath. "Alright, father. Just to show I am more of our family than you seem to credit, I'll not be betraying you to the Crown. But I don't want to hear anything more about this, and I'll not be associated with it. Somebody has to hold the fort and maintain a veneer of honour for our family in Xoana." His tone turned sarcastic. "Just in case, by some terrible wrinkle of fate, you and that woman fail in whatever fool's errand you've undertaken"

To his utter and complete surprise his father reached out and grabbed his shoulder, fondly. "NOW, you're thinking like a Kureyev, son. Always have a Plan B." Then he let out an evil chuckle. "And don't worry. I've already taken steps to ensure our family is above suspicion in Xoana. Our part should only come to light if I win. Listen" He gestured with his eyes in the direction of the household troops who had been busily annexing a few acres of Saillune by moving the border marker.

No longer could the sounds of boisterous laughter and drunken shouting be heard. Instead, there was the clang of metal on metal, accompanied by screams.

"What the hell? Father, what wha's hap pen" Yuran Kureyev was suddenly reeling, then felt his father supporting him as he collapsed.

Leaving his son to lie in the shade of the boulder the boy had been leaning against as they spoke, Count Leyion Kureyev mir Bezoar stepped over to his son's horse. Pulling out a hunting knife, he set about making the beast's tack and harness look as if it had been in battle. As he did so he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Back still turned to the newcomers, he stood himself straight up again.

"Good to have you back, Nartal. When this beast starts running, do me a favour and have your men feather it in a couple of non-fatal spots, would you?"

"Yes, sir!"

Kureyev then slashed the horse's rump with his knife. With a squeal, the beast tore off in the direction of home. It was followed by the swish of two arrows, which struck it in the ribs and a shoulder with audible thwacks. He watched the horse fleeing in terror, waiting until it was out of sight through the woods before turning to face his visitors.

Nartal Fane was grinning from ear-to-ear. "Nice of you to have all those men down there for us to play with, Sir."

The Count grinned back. "Thought you'd like it. I'm pretty sure a couple of them were agents for Zangulus. He's a clever one, despite his choice of Martina for a wife though clever is to be expected from an ace, ex-bounty hunter, I guess."

"Glad to have dispensed of them for you. What of the rest, though? They can't all have been agents."

Kureyev shrugged unconcernedly. "You know me. Whatever It Takes'. A few of Martina's grunt troopers are a very reasonable price for covering my tracks."

Stafan had grabbed the reins of Kureyev's horse and now led it forward. "Ser? What's t'be done about this'un?"

The Count patted the beast fondly on the forehead. "He's a good enough mount, if not my best. Oh well. Send it off the way you came, only this time feather it to kill slowly. So it wanders long enough to leave a blood trail in some useless direction."

"Yes, sir." Stafan set off with another archer to carry out the orders.

Nartal had squatted down next to the unconscious Yuran. "Sir? Isn't this a slight flaw in your plan? He's got to live, but he'll know this was a setup."

The Count Bezoar squatted next to Nartal, reaching out to pat the downed son's forehead fondly. "Nah. The drug I put in the wine is well known to knock out several hours' memory at the least, sometimes a couple days. Which reminds me" He reached over to the skin, still half full and grabbed it. "Hoy! Stafan! Be sharp now!" With that, he tossed the skin high into the air.

The man named, just having finished sending off the Count's poor horse, snapped around, knocked, drew and fired in a single fluid motion. The arrow pierced the bag midflight. It fell to the ground, leaking out the rest of the liquid inside.

Nartal chuckled. "Leaving the bag? Drug leaves no traceable dregs, either?"

Kureyev smiled. "No dregs either. As if anyone would have checked Glad to see you've kept the lads in top form, by the way."

"Only a few like Stafan and Kurgei that I kept handy the last three years, sir. The others need a little sharpening up, and I can't speak for the rest of our little troupe. I rather doubt that Ashalka has let her best men get any more complacent than I have mine, though. The whole lot of us should be in perfect fighting trim within a couple weeks of getting back together. They're all well trained."

"Excellent. Now, to put the finishing polishes on this little play." He signalled at one of the other men who had arrived with Nartal, a slim fellow with a crossed bandolier of knives. "Vestanar. Do please decorate my sleeping son here with a few slashes. He must look like he's fought a battle. Careful, though. I'll be very put out if he bleeds to death. He's a stubborn, youthful fool, with too wide a streak of idealism for my taste, but I'm still fond of him."

"Not to worry, sir. I haven't lost my surgeon's touch. Been keeping in practice." He grinned evilly.

The rest chatted animatedly for a few minutes while Vestanar worked. As they did, Kurgei and several of the other men dispatched to deal with the Xoanan troops arrived.

Nartal noticed first. "Ho! Kurgei! How many did you leave alive?"

"A half dozen, ser, all in poor shape. Two r three should wake up within an hour, sure. The rest I have doubts about. Didn't lose any of ours, not that we could've, those guards sotted as they were." He gestured at the few men with him. "Sent the rest back to help Gilmore with the horses, for when the signal she goes. They also lugged off the loot to put with the pack train."

"Good enough." With that, Nartal nodded to Stafan. The latter pulled out a signal arrow and fired it into the air. It let out a piercing wail.

Kureyev looked at his lieutenant. "What's that for?"

Nartal grinned toothily, again. "Icing on the cake, Sir. We stumbled across some real bandits yesterday. Left what was left of 'em with Gilmore and the horses. With your permission, we'll add them to the heap of your ex-guards. We even left one or two barely alive so they won't be in rigor mortis when the investigators turn up."

The Count patted his man on the shoulder. "Independent thinking. I like that in my men. Next time, though could you try something a little less conspicuous than a signal arrow, or at least warn me?"

"Aye, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Not to worry. I'm sure Kurgei and the other scouts know if anyone is within two miles of here."

Kurgei nodded. "Aye, sir. Not within three, in fact oi, here comes Gilmore and the others with the horses."

Vestanar finished up at that point. "Added some marks to the armour as well, sir. Like it?"

"You're an artist. Last bit is mine. You! Hand me your cudgel, please." The specified man did as ordered. Kureyev took the proferred weapon and walked over to his son a last time. "Sorry, boy, but there's gotta be a reasonable explanation for your memory loss. No hard feelings." With that, he rapped his son heavily on the head, enough to dent the helmet.

When Kureyev turned back, he caught the sardonic look on his senior men's faces. He shrugged "Maybe it'll knock some of his silly idealism out and some solid sense in. And I wasn't about to let any of you do it. Nobody bashes my son but me, hear?"

Nartal, Kurgei, Stafan and Vestanar saluted, and as one said. "Sir. Of course, Sir."

Kureyev looked upon the assembled motley of twenty-five hard-edged men. He broke into a huge smile. "Lads, it is so good to see you all again. It's been three or more years since this many of us were together. In a couple weeks, we'll have met up with Ashalka and her lot. For the first time ever, we'll have joined up all in one place at one time. As I look on you, I am reminded of my belief that never a finer irregular troop has been assembled, and you have proven it to me again this afternoon." He paused. "But you have only proven it to yourselves and me, and we already knew! Men, the chance has come to prove to every sorry, skirt-clutching, run-of-the-mill regimental grunt regular trooper out there that you — we — are the best, and hardest, and nastiest bastards ever to gang together and call themselves soldiers. We were denied our day of glory, three years ago, when Saillune's Princess and her agent the Black Sorceress Inverse sabotaged our war. Well, here's the news, here's why we're together again: we're going to find — or make - a war, our war, and we're going to fight it. We're going to lead it. And we're going to win it."

He paused again, while his men straightened and let out a grimly pleased chuckle. Cheers were not the sort of thing men like this indulged in.

"But there are many changes. From now on, I am no longer Count Bezoar of Xoana. That man died today in this clearing. I, Leyion Kureyev am now no more than Commander Leyion. The Kureyevan Reavers are also dead. We are no longer a special Company in the Xoanan Army. No, we are to become what we should always have been, what many of you were before you entered my service: free mercenaries, following their blades to whatever fight awaited them. We are now the Blacktalon Riders, the meanest, most ruthless and bloody-handed Mounted Infantry to ever curse this continent.

"Our first job is to simply play the part of common mercenaries. We'll be joined shortly by a young lady." Several of the men's eyes lit up ferally, and Leyion decided to cut that line of thought short before someone got hurt. "She's our employer. And I highly recommend you all be on your best behaviour around her. She might be young-looking, but she's an absolute demon with paired blades and probably a sorceress to boot. She wants the cover of a mercenary band at least as far as the foothills of eastern Saillune. That's where we're going. NOW! Mount up lads! No lazing about: the continent is itching for a scrum, and we'd best be doing our part to spark it!"

Nartal then stepped forward. "We split into groups of two to three, each taking two packhorses. All are to take different routes to" He paused in thought for a brief moment. "The Inn we stayed at two nights ago, _Highwayman's Lantern_, on the north High Road to Saillune City. Be there by late evening tomorrow at the latest. Last group to make it buys a round for everyone else!"

To backslaps and general laughter, the men mounted up and rode out of the clearing, scattering in different directions. Soon only Leyion, Nartal, and Vestanar were left.

Vestanar's eyes gleamed. "So, sir. What's the name of our purported employer? And who are we really working for."

Leyion shrugged. "She answers to Lady Sheila, though I doubt that's her real name. She's tighter than a clam, but hard to ignore when she does speak, and she pays well. I think she may actually be from Dilss, of all places."

Nartal's own eyes lit up a little. "The Cursed Kingdom? They're actually paying attention to the world again? It'll be the first time they've taken a part in affairs in more than twenty years."

Leyion nodded. "With Sairaag gone, the Monster Races' Barrier down, and Saillune's shadow rapidly falling across the whole continent, even Dilss seems to have sat up and taken an interest." He paused. "That's for your and Vestanar's ears only, as my seconds. The only other person you are permitted to discuss that with is Ashalka when we catch up with her."

Vestanar and Nartal both nodded. "Yes, sir."

All three mounted up. Vestanar hung back a few paces, letting Nartal and Kureyev ride ahead and exchange their histories of the last four years. He himself trailed silently in their wake, lost in deep thought. He was a moderately talented sorceror, as well as a professional field surgeon — the jobs went hand-in-hand, after all, at least where White Magic was concerned — which made him just about the best-educated man in what was now the Blacktalon Mercenaries. He also had his own ideas about the Cursed Kingdom, having been an apprentice-assistant to a field surgeon on that fateful expedition into the northern snows, twenty-five years earlier. He was one of the few who made it back, separately from Dilss' King. Suddenly a grin creased his face. An interesting idea had dawned in his mind. Spurring his horse, he cantered forward to join his travelling companions.

"Captain Leyion, Sir? When do we meet up with this mysterious lady swordsman? I have a sudden urge to meet such an interesting-sounding person."

"Eh? She agreed to meet me on the High Road late tonight. The Blacktalons are something of a surprise I have in store for her: she thinks we still have to find and hire some mercenaries to accompany her. I'd rather have you lot around. Besides, I want to try out some of those tactics we used to discuss, and I could only really depend on our boys to ever carry them out." He chuckled grimly.

Vestanar just nodded to show his understanding. "I can't wait, Sir."

* * * * * * * * *

Tain vakh Uriel drifted through one of the middle-class neighbourhoods of the White Magic City. The houses lining the street were the modest but comfortable dwellings of small-crafters and artisans, skilled labourers from some of the higher-paying industries like glassworking and metalworking, and a few small merchants. Many of the buildings had a first-floor shop or craft works and two higher stories of living quarters. They were also crammed together, built with narrow street frontage and abutting walls. Each block was almost like a wooded island, separated from its neighbours by the deep chasms that were city streets. Decorative gables and slate roofs served as grounding for the forest of chimney pots that strained skywards.

The assassin was in a pensive mood, and feeling impatient. His orders had been to find any parties open to an assisted change in government'. After two weeks in Saillune, he had concluded that anyone who still publicly opposed the Seyruun family's policies was not worth his time. Philionel tolerated dissent, as his honour and creed of Justice' demanded, but would never tolerate any conspirators known to be planning assassinations or a coup. The most useful people — if there were any left - would have deeply buried themselves out of sheer self-preservation, particularly after the botched attempt to take out both Philionel and his wife a dozen or more years past.

With certain disgust, Tain recalled the attempt had to be aborted. The assassin had been under specific orders to spare the Seyruun daughters so they could be used both as bargaining chips with other noble factions and the citizenry, and — when they were of age — legitimizers of the new regime through marriage. Trust luck to intervene and have the daughters walk in while the mother was being done up'. With the children bawling and screaming, the Guards responding, the whole Palace in arms, and the Crown Prince become a terrifying avatar of wrathful Vengeance, the assassin had no choice but to flee, his job only half done. 

The assassin escaped, and, in fact, despite every effort, the plotters had never been identified.

It's the people behind that job that Tain needed to unearth, approach, and make his pitch on Dilss', or rather Lord Dynast's behalf. Or, coerce into cooperating Whatever was needed to accomplish his mission, and — more importantly — get himself that soul.

It was to that end that he was now skulking down the night-darkened street. Early evening and full dark were not until well after ten, this close to the summer solstice, so most folk except drunken roisterers and the Watch were long indoors and abed. It made moving around easier: the marching tramp of Watchmen, and caroling of sots staggering homeward, were plenty enough warning to disappear into a sunken doorframe or narrow side alley.

Tain rounded a couple of corners and finally reached the block where his target stood. He had cased the area the previous day and knew where he was headed, but decided a little caution at this point couldn't hurt. He drifted down the street to a spot he had noticed during his scouting: a deeply sunken doorway on a shadowed side alley, right across from his destination.

The house he wanted was a three-story affair with windowed attic loft. It was slightly more elegant than its neighbours, and a nameplate by the door announced Arthur Palin, Purveyor of Fine Metalware'. A smaller subtext read: Knives * Kitchenware * Pots' All the lights were out. Tain settled into his nook to watch.

After a moment, a bent little ghost materialized out of nothingness beside him. Tain rolled his eyes. He and his Imp sidekick got along pretty well, but Drizzolt had been insistent of late. The assassin addressed his transparent companion under his breath. "What's with the faded forms of late, Drizzy?"

Drizzolt's eyes narrowed. "Do please stop calling me that. I'm a Mazoku, not a plush toy or fuzzy pet. And the faded form is because of the cursed Holy Wards on this city. They've drained enough out of me that a solid form is just too much effort. So what's the holdup? You've already watched this place for a whole day, and I don't want to spend a second more than necessary in this prosperous, happy White Magic miasma than I have to. It's killing me! Literally! Ick."

"I'm a human, an assassin and a sneak, Drizzolt. Charging in blindly and messily killing everything I could otherwise have avoided is way too much effort."

"Is that all? Jeez, just gimme a sec." The Imp winked out.

Tain just blinked in mild surprise, then silently muttered a few choice oaths. What was the maimed little creep doing?

After two minutes, Drizzolt reappeared. "Just go, will you? The place is empty. No one's home." Despite his assurances, he still kept his voice very low. The key to successful skullduggery is to always hedge one's bets.

"What? How do you know?"

"I cased it from the astral plane, roof ridge to sub-basement. Unless there's been an outbreak of soulless bastards like you, it's empty. Trust me. Whaddaya want with the place, anyway?"

"You'll see." Tain started forward. Drizzolt faded down to an ethereal outline and followed, almost invisibly drifting by the human's ear.

They circled halfway around the block to another narrow back alley that Tain had picked out during his earlier scouting. He ducked in, then nimbly scrambled up the rough stone of the buildings. Once atop, he flitted across the roofs from shadow to moon-sharpened shadow, finally reaching a large loft window in his target building.

He dismantled the numerous traps set into the window, carefully oiled the window frame, then gently, carefully, quietly lifted the pane wide enough to admit himself. Once through he shut it again.

The attic space was moderately opulent, comprising numerous bookcases, a richly patterned carpet, and mahogany desk with brass lamp.

Without turning his head he muttered to the floating apparition drifting at his shoulder. "I don't suppose you could make some light? Keep it a little dimmer than the moonlight outside, and no one will know there's anyone lurking in here."

Drizzolt obliged with a mild grumble. "Duh. I'm a pro sneak too, with several thousand years more experience. I know how bright to make things."

Tain ignored him, moving swiftly to the bookshelves and beginning a meticulous inspection of their contents. His eyes flicked rapidly along the rows. Every so often he pulled out a book and fingered through a few pages.

"So?" Drizzolt chopped out the word irritably.

"The Guild ledger might be hidden in plain sight, not in the desk or a secret vault. There's only a few books that aren't dusty from sitting. Ours may be one of them."

"The Guild? Oh! What? You mean they _write down_ their contracts?"

"Of course. SOME sort of written record must be kept. Trust is thin among professional sneak killers and their patrons. The Guilds need something to coerce payment from reluctant employers, and to act as insurance against betrayal. Employers like to have a preset price before any job is undertaken. Result: a job description, a signature and agreed fee for every contract."

"You talk like they're a different bunch than you."

"Of course. I'm not Guild. The Guilds are for people unskilled enough to need the protection and security of an organization. Anyone who hired my Master - or me — knew they were hiring true artists, the best, for the highest price and hardest jobs. They knew they had to deal on the up-and-up or die. Guild types are for rival merchants, cheated spouses, and crime gangs. My type does Kings, ranking nobles, and high sorcerers and, of course, each other. Good to keep competition down in a market that rarely has more than a dozen jobs a lifetime."

He continued searching for a while, first through the shelves, then, with the insubstantial Drizzolt's assistance, the desk and walls for secret compartments. No luck, and Tain was beginning to feel his own frustration.

Quite suddenly, the whole house juddered slightly as an outside door was opened, then closed heavily. Within moments someone could be heard climbing the stairs casually, whistling tunelessly, clearly not suspecting anything was amiss.

A very nasty grin materialized across Tain's dimly lit face. Almost inaudibly he chuckled, then muttered to his partner. "Oh what luck we can save ourselves some trouble and just ask politely."

Drizzolt winked out. Tain moved swiftly to a shadowed nook near the door.

A moment later, there was some scratching as traps were deactivated, then the rattling of a key in the door lock. An older gentleman, leanly built, stepped into the room and headed for the desk. He fidgeted with the brass lamp on the desk, still softly whistling, and soon a warm golden glow filled the room.

Tain had silently closed the door and wedged it shut as the man lit the room, then decided to casually lean against the doorframe. He pulled out a wickedly thin, hooked knife and began to silently clean his nails.

The older man nearly jumped out of his own skin, face draining to sheet white, after turning to see a dark-wrapped and hard-edged intruder casually cutting off his escape. He found his voice quickly enough, however.

"Wh who are YOU?"

"Why, Master Palin, 'purveyor of kitchenware' or rather, should I say, Mefglas the Knife! You don't remember me? Though I guess I was only an apprenticed, stripling youth the last time we met."

"How could you know that name? You're not Guild! I know every Guildman who could break into here like this!"

"That's right. I'm NOT Guild, and I'm good enough to get in. That should make it clear just what I am. Now, I just want to make an inquiry or two, and then I'll be on my way."

Arthur Palin, alias Mefglas the Knife, found enough courage to cross his arms and set his face into stony resolve. "I'll not be breaking Guild Silence, whoever you are."

"Commendable. But, all I want is the names of the people who employed my recently departed master twelve years ago. You must know, or at least suspect consider it a professional favour, to be returned in kind."

"Since I have no idea who your master is wait? _Twelve_ years ago? That mess-up?" Somehow, Mefglas managed to pale even further, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're HIS apprentice?" He swallowed. "Artaindric, wasn't it?"

Tain grinned. "Just Tain, now, old man. That other name was far too flashy and heroic for my taste But that's beside the point and I'm in a hurry. So, who hired him?"

"I'm not telling. I guess you'll just have to kill me."

"Tsk, tsk. That's also a very commendable approach. But, sadly, death is no inconvenience. My current job is for some folk who can torment your spirit for eternity" At those words Drizzolt faded back into visibility, his face a study in viciously unwholesome appetite. "see? So, your choice here has just gone from a lingering death, to lingering death with a bonus visit to a Mazoku chamber of horrors afterwards." Tain gave a mock sigh. "Too bad, if you had just been helpful from the outset, I was inclined towards the quick and painless option out of consideration for a professional colleague, if nothing else."

Mazoku and assassin stepped forward, both with eyes glittering in anticipation.

* * * * * * * * *

An hour later, Tain stood at the base of the house stairs, trickling the last of a viscous fluid onto the floor from a small metallic flask. A trail of the faintly cloudy substance dribbled up the staircase and beyond.

Beside him, Drizzolt was at last mostly solid again, his Mazoku spirit and powers recharged by what had passed upstairs. He glanced questioningly at Tain. "Isn't this just a tad overdramatic?"

With a flicker of fingers, the assassin playfully twirled the flask before capping and sliding it into a hidden pocket. "Not at all. Fire is the best way to tidy up after oneself. It gives a pat cover for any remains discovered" He reached up to pat the bulge at his chest. " and I have all I'll really need. There will be some people dancing for joy come morning and news of this unfortunate fire. Imagine their discomfort when I show up with all the records they hoped were lost forever?"

"They'll at least listen to you, that's for sure." Drizzolt's tone was appreciative as he reached out and magically set aflame the bit of fluffy tinder Tain held out for him.

The human casually flicked the smouldering bit of fluff over his shoulder and into the puddle of flame-oil as he stepped out. It flared into searing white fire that raced upstairs.

Tain was chuckling. "Listen they will, Drizzy. Listen they will."

As they disappeared down the dark, silent street, Drizzolt's plaintive " Hey! I thought I've asked you to stop calling me that!" drifted back through suddenly smoke-heavy air.

The whole building was raging flames before they had gone two blocks, and the two neighbouring structures were afire before even the first cries of alarm rang out.

* * * * * * * * * *

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NEXT CHAPTER: What has Luna been doing? Looking for the last Gold!

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Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!


	8. Southbound

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Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

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By Elderdrake

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Author's note: Just to make sure it's clear to everyone, this happens while Lina and Co. are on the road. Hmmm I wonder if I should start throwing dates in with the titles, like some Fantasy and Sci-Fi authors are wont to do anyhow, best way to look at it is Luna passed through Atlass a day or two before Lina, and it is now eight days or so beyond that. Now, read on and enjoy!

* * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

Southbound

* * * * * * * * * *

Luna drifted towards wakefulness with great reluctance. In truth, she knew she really was awake, but was firmly wishing it weren't so. So she screwed her eyes closed, burrowed deeper under covers, and tried to tune out sounds of distant commotion.

Then her room creaked and juddered, only a little, but enough to persuade her belligerent stomach that she was, despite all evidence to the contrary, falling off a mile-high cliff.

That forced her completely awake and she dived for the bucket next to her bunk. Several dry heaves later, she flopped back to lie on her bed, muttering assorted obscenities. One arm was draped over her eyes, trying to block out the sunlight streaming in through the small porthole. 

Luna absolutely HATED sea travel. Anytime she was on board a ship, in seas any stiffer than a sheltered harbour on a calm day, she was an absolute basket case. It was a ridiculous predicament: unbelievable, cosmic powers, and she could be defeated by mere waves on water. Talk about unfair especially when even cosmic power couldn't help. The underlying cause of seasickness wasn't something that could be healed with White Magic.

Luna reflected on little sister Lina, who took to water like a fish. The younger Inverse loved sailing and cruises, and had even learned to pilot sloops and windjammers in Zefeeria City's harbour as a kid. It was the only hobby Luna could remember Lina having, besides magic and eating. There was an evil irony there: according to fairy tales, wasn't it supposed to be _Black_ witches who couldn't cross water? Why did the Inverses have to be so well, inverted?

Luna reveled in self-pity for a few more minutes before finally concluding she was unlikely to get back to sleep for a while. All she'd been doing for the week since leaving Atlass City, in fact, was sleep. Sleep seemed to be the only way to get around her seasickness, or at least be comfortable. But, too much sleep was just about the only thing that felt worse than too little. Luna knew she'd definitely had way, WAY too much. Her tongue felt thick, she had a headache, and every muscle of her body was protesting the forced inactivity. And it was doing her temper no good whatsoever.

She finally sat up on her bunk, her stomach still protesting but no longer so rebellious: when she thought of something else, it wasn't as bad. Luna tried to calm herself further by brushing out her awful bed-head. Maybe some time on deck, in the fresh air, and she'd at least be able to choke down some water or broth.

As her sleep-muzziness faded away and senses began reconnecting with coherent thought, she became aware of the commotion that had awakened her in the first place. Shouts. Thumping feet. The bosun whistling. Bellowed orders. Then the boat palpably swerved and jumped forward Luna winced and was forced to grit her teeth to keep herself from another exchange with the bucket. Had the ship had just turned sharply and put on full sail? What was up? Instinctively she glanced out her little porthole, trying to ascertain what might be happening, and immediately regretted it. The bouncing horizon outside was too much to handle, and her stomach rebelled again.

She was getting REALLY angry at this whole business.

A loud slam echoed outside her room as the deck hatchway crashed open. Someone lightweight but very hurried came running down the little hall outside Luna's cabin. Then someone thumped loudly on her door.

"Miss! Miss! Please! Are you awake?" Luna recognized the voice of Spiffin the Cabin Boy. Spiffin was the one who had brought her meals, or more usually took them back and returned with just water. He was also the only one of the crew who had bothered to check on her regularly. Most sailors have little time for landlubbers, it seemed.

Despite that debt of goodwill, Luna was unable to rein in her exceptionally grumpy mood. 

"WHAT?!" Luna's blistering reply, in fact, carried enough acid to melt rock.

"Miss! It's it's _pirates_!" His voice broke on that last word, and there was halting pause. Luna could almost picture him swallowing, trying to gather courage. "The the Cap'n orders us to stay below I I'm to guard you! He said its men's work above, and bl- bl- bloody work at that." He sniffled a little at the end.

Luna sighed in irritation. Whoever these pirates were, the Captain obviously didn't expect to survive their onslaught. His first instinct was to hide the women and children. Very chivalrous of him, unless one understood that being sunk with the ship, or being captured after the fight was over, was probably a fate far worse than whatever could happen in a battle on deck.

Or else he simply hoped to keep a useless boy and supposedly hysterical woman out of the way. Luna definitely had no intention of accepting _that_. Nor of putting up with a pirate attack when she was both in a hurry and a very bad mood.

"So, it's all these _pirates'_ fault I was awakened, all these _pirates'_ fault my stomach is lurching, and all these _pirates'_ fault we're zooming and pitching across choppy water, making my stomach _worse_?" The last bit wasn't really true anymore, as the cold fury that had settled in her chest was also numbing her stomach.

Spiffin had prepared himself for many responses, but the one Luna was giving him had never made his list. Taken rather aback by her tone, his voice was tremulous. "Uhh Yes?"

"_Fine_!" There was a lethal edge to Luna's single word.

She quickly dressed, threw on a few pieces of her armour, and then snatched up her greatsword in its scabbard with one hand while yanking open her door with the other.

"Right, let's go, kid. Tag along if you must, but I doubt you'll need to protect me today." _Poor kid_, she thought, _I'm being rotten to him_. _Oh well, kids are resilient._

The boy's eyes were wide, though the fear in them was rapidly succumbing to confused surprise. Luna's behaviour was just about the exact opposite of anything he been taught to expect from women.

"G-go? Where, Miss?"

"To obliterate stupid pirates."

"B Miss, what" Then he registered the greatsword she was slinging across her back. "You you mean that's YOURS?"

That actually took Luna aback. "Well, of course it's mine! Why in the name of Cepheed would anybody lug around some other twit's weapon?"

Spiffin just looked puzzled. "The the crew, they all said it was probably a dowry payment, or or sommat" Then his eyes somehow managed to widen even more. The cutlasses he was familiar with were terribly puny things by comparison. "You you're actually gonna hit PEOPLE with THAT?" There was a boyish mix of horror and anticipation in his words as he eyed the five-foot length of the sheathed blade.

Luna resisted rolling her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but I doubt I'll have to." She stepped past the boy and strode purposefully toward the deck hatch.

Spiffin, not knowing what else to do, trailed along behind her, wondering what this crazy girl would do. He hoped the Cap'n wouldn't be too angry with him not keeping her out of the way. He took heart, though: if anything, the crazy lady was at least as scary as the pirates and that had to be a good thing under the circumstances.

* * * * * * * * *

Luna slammed open the door to the deck. The large, burly and cutlass-armed sailor who had been guarding it stepped immediately across her path. He expected having to tackle a terror-crazed woman, or having to swat a disobedient boy, and opened his mouth to shout a loud reprimand. 

Luna's searing glower silenced him before he ever drew breath, and he almost tripped over himself getting out of her way. Luna briefly scanned the deck, then, spotting the Captain, drove past the speechless brawny-boy without sparing him a second glance. Spiffin, reassured by Luna's purposeful intensity and now boyishly determined to at least stick to the 'defend her' part of Cap'n's orders, followed close in her wake, pausing briefly to offer the big sailor an apologetic shrug.

The Captain of their ship, the _Juniper Bough_, was occupied with watching the three pirate ships and frantically issuing orders, and so didn't notice Luna until she stepped between him and his view of the enemy. He blinked once and his florid face darkened by several shades of purple. As if he didn't have enough troubles 

"MISS! What are you doing on deck! Get back below where it's safe. There's no place for women in sea battles!"

He withered just a little under Luna's scathing glance. "_They're_ the ones who should be worrying about 'safe'! I was _asleep_, and _comfortable_, and _not_ wrestling with my bucket before _they_ showed up. Punishment is in order."

"Miss! That is the squadron of Alrick the Sea-Garm!"

She turned to survey the three low-slung, fast brigs hot on the _'Bough_'s tail. "So what? Never heard of him. Is he supposed to be famous or something?"

"He's one of the most terrible pirate captains ever known, and from well before that Barrier came down! For your own safety, please return below deck! You cannot know what he does to women!" Though obviously infuriated, he was managing to maintain a veneer of gentlemanliness to his paying passenger.

But Luna's blood was already up. "I can guess what he does to women, and don't see how cowering in my cabin or dying would change that IF I were the sort of woman he could do those 'things' to! Now IF you don't MIND"

With that, she turned back to face the enemy. Not out of any real need for anything other than a dramatic gesture, she drew her massive sword and pointed it at the pirate ships. They had drawn nearly within bowshot, and a few arrows were already flying, gauging the distance. She paused in concentration.

The Captain's face had turned purple with fury, and he was waving over two crewmen.

"Madam! Go below or I will have you forcefully rem ulp?" He never finished, because events suddenly outpaced orders. Whatever he meant to say, his words were forced back down his throat by the stunning blast that rolled across his ship.

Spiffin had quietly hung close to Luna. Since the Captain was too busy yelling and threatening, the boy was the only person who actually heard the three short phrases Luna muttered, pointing her sword at each ship in succession: "Sea Blast Sea Blast Seno, hmmm." There was a momentary pause as she reconsidered. Then: "Udai WIND!"

Two of the pirate ships disappeared inside massive eruptions of the ocean surface, accompanied by the screeching of tortured, splintering wood and a stunning 'KARRUMP!'

The third pirate ship, after Luna's pause, was quite suddenly thrown a hundred yards sideways, thoroughly dismasted, and then capsized by a two-second hurricane blast.

Spiffin said: "Whoa!"

The Captain said: "Wha?"

Luna, almost instantly flipping from a cold fury to ebullient satisfaction, grinned maniacally. "Oh! I feel so much _better_ now! That's what you get for messing with _my_ nap!" She waved a fist defiantly in the direction of the wreckage. Then she turned to the Captain, sheathing her blade as she did so, just as the falling spray from her Sea Blasts reached their ship and hit like a cloudburst.

"No place for a woman in sea battles, eh? Now what was it were you going to have done to me URK! BLEAAAGH!" Her voice had been smug to start with, coming clearly through the blinding, rushing, hair-flattening torrent of falling water. Then the rings of rolling, frothing backwash, the natural consequence of any large explosion at sea, hit their boat. All Luna's smugness evaporated as her landlubber stomach, no longer smothered by fury, fully reasserted itself. Luna had no choice but to dive for the ship's railing as the vessel pitched and bucked wildly in the surging seas.

* * * * * * * * *

Although it seemed much longer, it was really not much more than a quarter of an hour later before the _Juniper Bough _was back in fairly normal order. The off-duty crew had gone back to quarters and the ship was back on course. The Captain, in something of a huff, had returned to his cabin just as soon as he could.

One patch of the deck was conspicuously empty of activity. At its middle was the damp, spent, and bedraggled form of Luna. Tuckered out and miserable from her most recent bout of seasickness, she was slumped down with her back to the sea and arms draped along the railing for support. Not a single crewman was going any nearer to her than absolutely necessary. Most, in fact, were circling wide, to the opposite side of the deck, when they had to pass by.

__

Typical sailors, Luna griped silently to herself. _You save their silly superstitious hides with a little magic and instead of gratitude you get signs to ward off the evil eye _It probably didn't help, she reflected, that the ship and its crew were all Outside-Worlders. They had probably never seen much magic, let alone sorcery on the scale she had used - at least a dozen times more powerful than just about any normal human sorcerer could ever accomplish. In her cranky, self-righteous fury she had, she ruefully admitted, tapped rather more of her special Ryozoku reserves than she needed to. Not that Cepheed would mind; pirates stood for just about everything Cepheed opposed

"Umm, Miss?" A tentative voice interrupted her musing, and two shadows fell across her patch of sunlight. She managed to find enough energy to glance up. Then she blinked several times, reflecting on her earlier words. _Yep_ - _kids really ARE resilient_

For of all the crew, none other than the lad Spiffin was the first to check on her, though an older man whom Luna had seen around deck once or twice before, stood behind him. Then she saw Spiffin was offering her both sympathy and a glass of water. The older fellow nodded encouragingly. "Best to have a spot of water after a bout like that, Lady."

Luna accepted the glass wordlessly and took a few tentative sips. When it became apparent she was going to be able to keep it down, she ventured some larger sips, rinsed her mouth and spat overboard, then downed the rest slowly but gratefully. As she drank, she swept a questioning gaze over her unexpected company.

Feeling restored, Luna nodded in gratitude. "Thanks."

The boy broke into a smile, then asked. "Can I get you something else?"

Luna tried to wave him off. Though she didn't mind being a waitress herself, she was quite uncomfortable with being waited upon. "No, thanks, it's OK"

"It's no trouble! Really." The boy was firm.

Luna stared blankly, then decided to accept the offer. It was less work than persuading the boy otherwise. "Well tea, maybe?" Tea seemed like a good idea, anyway. Warm and soothing.

The older man interjected. "Get Cook to add a goodly amount of ginger."

Spiffin's smile widened. "With ginger. Of course! Crew likes ginger in their grog when it's stormy!" He scooted in the direction of Cook's Galley.

Luna wanted to smack her brow. Why, oh why hadn't she thought of ginger eight days ago? Perfect for upset stomachs!

Then Spiffin quickly turned around. "Miss? Sorry, may I ask one thing before I go get your tea?"

"I guess. What?"

"Why did you just knock over the last pirate boat, and not blow it up like the others?"

Luna shrugged. "I dunno. Mostly, I think I wanted to leave'em someplace to think about their fates. Not to mention forcing someone to drown is not my favourite thing to do."

"But they were _pirates_!"

"So? If they don't all kill each other, maybe a few will learn something after drifting for a few days, or swimming to shore, and do something positive with the rest of their lives."

The old man coughed. "Swim to shore? _Here_? That could be a fate worse than drowning." He swept a hand at the line of rusty-orange cliffs slipping by portside of the southbound ship. For, of course, this far south of Atlass City, the cliffs were none other than the edge of the monster-and-demon-infested Great Desert of Destruction.

Luna blinked several times, scratched her head, and shrugged. "Ooops! Oh well. Their own stupid faults, picking a sea battle where they wouldn't survive losing" She shook her head. "Idiots! Did they honestly believe they could only win?" Then she loosed a nasty, cat-just-ate-the-mouse sort of grin and dark chuckle. "And if any do survive, they'll have learned their lesson, that's for sure! Painfully, but permanently. They'll behave for the rest of their days."

Spiffin's eyes lit with agreement. Twelve-year-old boys have a definite streak of innocent viciousness. "That's for sure! Heh, I'll go get your tea now, Miss!" And he scampered off for real this time.

The older man and Luna both watched the boy go, then turned to face each other. Luna's expression asked what her voice didn't.

A twinkle reached the old man's eyes. "Ahem! Don't be surprised if he waits on you hand and foot whenever he can the next couple of days, Miss. He's wanted to see 'real magic' since the first rumours of the Great Barrier's fall and fantastic sorceries reached his ears. You gave him quite a show. And saved his hide to boot and he's at that sort of age" He paused, suddenly. "Oh, sorry. My manners! Ahem, Oldster Nevin, Ship's Navigator." He extended a hand. "Permit me to belatedly offer the thanks both the crew and our fuming Captain owe you?"

Luna decided she could clamber to nearly standing. Still leaning somewhat against the railing for support, she accepted his hand gravely. "Luna Inverse and, your welcome, I guess. It was my hide on the line too, after all." A pause, as she surveyed the fellow. "So, are you and my new hero-worshipper somehow related?"

"Not in the family sense. Spiffin is my apprentice in the art of Navigation. He pulls his weight by serving as Cabin Boy on any ship that hires me." He chuckled. "Bright lad, already knows more about the job than I did at twice his age. And to be honest, I shared his curiosity about magic, which is why I took the job on this ship's first risky run to the Inside."

"Childhood wonder overcoming superstition I can believe, but what's with you?"

"What I do - look at stars, and figure out to within a few miles exactly where we are - is serious magic to most of this crew. The math I use might as well be demonic incantations, too. I guess I see magic as just another art that's inexplicable to most." His eyes were twinkling again. "And a very useful art, at that. A few more like you, and pirates would become an extinct breed I think."

Luna shook her head. "Only until a pirate captain hits upon employing a willing sorcerer of his own. It's happened before."

Nevin paled. "Gods forbid!"

"The Gods do, let me assure you. So do the Guilds. But, there are always some who refuse to listen."

Oldster Nevin missed the deep irony in her tone.

The _Juniper Bough_ was now sailing quite smoothly. She had fled close enough to the coastline while being chased that headlands were sheltering the boat from the sea's worst chop. Luna was able to survey the empty, slightly bobbing, rust-orange cliffs a few hundred yards to port with only minor twinges. It was an uninviting sort of place, and she briefly wondered where the pirates could base themselves.

She turned back to Nevin. "What was a whole pirate squadron doing along this barren coast anyway? You're right, it's not like they could land up there"

"You don't know? These waters are the richest pickings in the world, now. That's why I said 'risky run' earlier. One successful pirating, and Poof! You have the fortune of a lifetime."

"No kidding?"

"Not at all. A few months ago, a King traded his Crown Jewels for just one of what we're carrying."

That didn't sound so good "NOT magic weapons, I should hope."

She really didn't like the thought of a smuggling trade in military-grade chimeras, or something like Zenafa Armor, to the Outside. The mess that would create! There was a concerted effort by Inside kings, and the Sorcery Guilds (initiated by Philionel of Saillune, who else?) to prevent such a catastrophe. Had it been enough?

Nevin hesitated. "I'm not sure the Captain would be pleased if I told you."

"Ohhh?" Her eyes narrowed. Evasiveness irritated her, especially on potentially important subjects. "What if I told you, that _I_ won't be pleased if you _don't_?"

That was a convincing argument, coming from a woman who annihilated pirate squadrons for stress relief. Nevin still tried a last hedge, though. "Er Not planning on going into business for yourself, are you?"

One of Luna's eyebrows twitched and she now spoke through clenched teeth. "No. I've actually got bigger things to worry about I _think_. Convince me."

The old man abruptly caved in. "Freezers."

Luna couldn't believe she had heard right. "Huh?" 

"You must know. Boxes, with some sort of ice magic? Spiffin got something called ice cream? Yes that was it! From a man with one on a cart in Atlass"

She felt like tearing her hair out after strangling the man. "I know what a freezer is! I can't believe you had me worrying about what I was worrying about. What's the big deal with freezers anyway! Why'd you have to be so evasive!"

Just then, the Captain returned on deck, shouting for his navigator, and Spiffin returned with her ginger tea and a heavy barrage of questions about her spells and magic in general. Nevin made his escape, eyes twinkling in merriment, something that Luna fortunately - for him - did not see.

* * * * * * * * * *

A day and a half later, Luna was feeling rather more chipper. Oldster Nevin's suggestion of ginger had worked miracles, at least so long as the weather held fine. That had improved her outlook enough that she had even tolerated Spiffin's constant company and questions whenever the boy wasn't attending to duties with the Captain, Cook, or Nevin.

Spiffin was currently busy with the Captain, so Luna stood on deck, her ginger tea in hand, enjoying a moment's peace. She was waiting for the _Juniper Bough_ to round the last headland before the town of Saltastre - more of a city really, except compared to Saillune or Elmikia. It was supposed to be something of a sight for sore eyes, so she was waiting with some impatience as a last high, brick-colored headland, sporting a new-looking lighthouse, reluctantly swept aside to reveal what lay beyond.

She was not disappointed. Saltastre WAS beautiful, in every sense of the word: brilliant white buildings and spires roofed in bright red tile, flooding up a steep hillside, set over a richly turquoise bay. The backdrop was a perfect contrast, rusty and ruddy orange desert, touched here and there by oases of lush green. The sky, free of clouds, was clearer and even more deeply blue than the water. Blue and orange, despite being complimentary colours, rarely worked well together. But somehow, here, the rules seemed suspended and the tones and textures were perfect for each other.

The view of the city - from the harbour mouth, at least - was dominated by a massive seawall, no doubt to shield it from massive fall storms rolling in from the Daemon's Ocean. These were subtropical latitudes, subject to typhoons, after all, and the bay faced exactly the right - wrong, rather? - direction to catch the worst they could dish out.

Typhoon season was still a few months away, however, and the harbour was cluttered with ships. Luna counted eight standing at anchor, awaiting berths, while another dozen were moored at the docks. Launches ferried men and goods everywhere. Vessels of all sizes - dinghies, pleasure boats, fishing boats, merchantmen, even an armed ship lined with the cannon they so loved to use in the Outside - crisscrossed her field of view. Many were quite a bit bigger than what she had become familiar with. In the formerly limited waters of the Inside, big long-distance haulers weren't needed.

As the _Juniper Bough_ sailed into the bay, she was passed by another vessel heading the opposite direction. Luna followed the outbound ship with her eyes as it slid by, some of its crew waving at their lone female audience, and so she caught a glimpse of yet another ship, inbound from the south, manoeuvering to follow the _Juniper Bough_ in. Beyond it, just crossing the southern horizon, yet another inbound set of sails was on its way.

Her gaze returned to Saltastre. The shoreline under the massive seawall was a beehive of activity. The working part of the port stretched along the middle of the wall. It was the usual riot of seamen coming and going, cargoes being shifted, officials and bureaucrats and tariff collectors skittering helter-skelter. To either side, however was as much or more activity: acres of new quays, piers, wharves, warehouses and offices were all under construction.

Luna didn't know, but there had been a time when the seawall had presented a blank face to the sea. Now, it was pierced by no less than three massive gates. The largest and most ornate was dead center. Nor could Luna know that largest gate plugged a gap where, a little more than two years earlier, a ship had crashed through the wall and, in so doing, trumpeted to the Outside World that the Inside was no longer sealed away.

As they got closer and more details could be made out, Luna's survey dropped from the grand sweep of the walls to the humdrum items that were at the root of all this activity: rows and rows and rows of crates. They were being transferred from the ships that dared the desolate coast and lurking pirates between Saltastre and Atlass, to the ships that would carry them on through safer waters and into the markets of the Outside World.

Freezers.

It was bizarre. Freezers were so commonplace on the Inside. Only the poorest of the poor didn't own one. Just about every crossroads village had someone who sold ice cream out of a freezer on a cart to travelling passersby.

But Outside, without advanced magic, the freezers were a wonder A way to easily preserve food, especially meat and dairy. A safe way to prepare dishes in advance, and store them until needed. Ice cubes. Cold drinks. Cold or iced desserts and ice cream! A safe way to ship all these things, as well as fruits and vegetables, any distance at all.

To be able to suavely offer iced drinks - or ice cream, or snazzy imported perishables - to guests would become a matter of pride. A status symbol, even.

And it would be worth a LOT of money to be the first to have one in your town, your kingdom, or just your general region. Proof of your wealth, or far-reaching and worldly business or political contacts. The ability to suggest familiarity with the mysterious and powerful Inside Kingdoms.

Not all of it was good. Luna, the day before, had cornered Nevin to ask him more. He told, laughingly, of the ruler of a distant city-state. A year previously, this ruler had wanted to buy from one of the earliest shipments of freeze-boxes, wishing to be able to impress neighbouring rulers and nobility when they visited. He had nearly bankrupted his citizens with the new taxes he imposed to meet the importer's asking price. That had eventually resulted in rioting, protests and an attempted assassination by angry merchants.

Nevin had sounded quite amused, but Luna saw a bigger picture. If simple freezers could cause that kind of trouble, what about the first shipment of advanced magic weapons to make it past vigilant Saillune and Sorcery Guild inspectors? What about magical medicines and potions? There were no laws about letting those out. Saillune, in fact, had fixed prices for those items at almost reasonable levels what more Just and Worthy than making magical cures as affordable as possible to the Outside?

But trust some evil bastard somewhere to sow a plague for which he had bought magical cures, but his enemies hadn't

Or try the other way around. The Sorcery Guilds, Inside, were strictly neutral. They were very forceful about keeping magic out of petty warfare. There wasn't an Inside kingdom that didn't shudder in horror at the very idea of using a Dragon Slave in battle, or on a besieged city. Any king, or sorcerer willing to try was _very_ quickly dealt with. As a result, the only magic used in warfare was White, for healing the wounded. But - and with this, she glanced at the large cannon-armed boat drifting silently to Saltastre's docks - what if some Inside kingdom ordered cannons, or handguns, from Outside? Lone rogue sorcerers could be tracked down and punished. Ten thousand muskets would be a lot more difficult to deal with.

Or, heaven forbid, the first talented, power-mad sorcerer from Inside deciding to set up a private kingdom dedicated to his own self-gratification Outside, where he would be nearly unstoppable. If something like the Gold Dragons - despite all their flaws - were still around, such wouldn't happen, or last very long if it did. But, of course, they were gone.

Luna was getting a headache. _Probably an ulcer, too,_ she griped silently. The fall of the Monster Races' Barrier, she was coming to realize, was as much catastrophe as miracle. Damn Phibby for forcing the situation. Damn Xelloss and the Greater Beast, who must still be giggling uncontrollably at the likely consequences of all this and probably knew, damn well, what chaos they were 'helping' bring about. Damn Lina for making it all possible though, Luna had to grudgingly admit, little sister had had little choice in the matter. Damn the Golds for so stringently quashing magic development in the Outside, creating the disparity in the first place and damn Phibby again, for inventing the Barrier

__

Damn! And all this on top of what Miss Gleyzia has me worrying about. "And no one left but ME, and her, and maybe one other to try and keep it all from going completely haywire!"

"Eh? What was that Miss?"

Luna startled. Apparently she'd muttered her last thought aloud, while Spiffin had approached undetected from behind.

"Oh! Ah, um nothing" She thought fast, glanced at her now-cold tea, tossed its dregs overboard. "Just thinking a fresh cup of tea would be nice! Would you mind? I'll tell you a bit more about the kinds of magic when you get back."

"OK!" The boy grabbed her cup and ran off to do as bid.

If only she could so easily redirect her own thoughts. Maybe She turned to a nearby sailor. "You!"

He jumped out of his skin, turned to face her, sweating, and offered a very forced smile while gesturing minutely with his left hand to ward off evil magic.

"Oh for the sake of Holy Cepheed! I don't bite Well, granted, maybe I do. But pirates, not you, OK? I just want to know how soon can I get off this hulk."

That was something the sailor was very glad to answer. "Och, Leddy. Noo moor'n 'n ooer, surely. Sune as the tariffsmin an'arburmaster are dune wit'us. Likes to coont crets'n'passengers befure any get oof, they du."

Luna parsed her way through his heavy accent, then nodded. "An hour at most. Thanks."

She turned back to her leaning survey of the port, soon spotting the harbour authority vessel already scooting its way to her boat. Good. The speedier the better. The Sun was already dropping.

Maybe starting her actual quest would allow her to shove some of her newest worries to a back burner. She was suddenly quite glad Miss Filia hadn't included a return address in any of her letters. The business of finding her might be a welcome distraction, not the nuisance it had seemed at the start.

* * * * * * * * *

The rowboat ride across the harbour had been uncomfortable. The sailors had all crowded as far to one end of the boat from her as they could and still make the boat function. She had been too preoccupied to give even small thought to putting them more at ease.

Luna now strode along the docks in full gear, her sword strapped to her back, travel pack slung over one shoulder. It was so pleasant to be back on blessedly stable land, and she was looking forward to her first serious meal in a week. And a bath! Ships, especially ones sailing along a desert coast, did not allow their freshwater supply to be used for baths. And even though Luna had alternative means - Aqua Create plus a low-grade fireball worked just fine - there had been no space on board to take advantage of those alternatives without becoming the peep show for a dozen sailors.

She wove her way among all the carts and crates and through the crowds that still swarmed all over the dockside area even though the sun had dropped far enough to be touching the western horizon. Her goal was that great big gate, a quality inn, a meal, a bath, and a soft feather bed

Perhaps it was the long shadows and the sunset light on the statue itself. Maybe it was the odd sight of a bent old woman patting at a flowerbed surrounding the statue amidst all the busy activity. Maybe it was the fact that the dockside was a strange place to find a flowerbed and benches and a small fountain. Maybe it was curiosity at what figure had deserved enough recognition to be placed, in a larger than life statue, right next to the city's main sea gate. Whatever it was, Luna was prompted to glance up as she passed by.

She stopped so abruptly one could almost hear her boots squeal as she skidded to a halt. Her travel sack dropped to the ground from fingers gone limp with astonishment.

"OH I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

She slumped onto the bench behind her, eyes wide to stare up in mute disbelief at the countenance of the sibling she hadn't seen in several years.

Actually, four countenances, she registered after her initial shock wore off, three of which she'd never seen before. Her eyes dropped to the inscription on the large, square pediment arising from the fountain basin. Neatly chiseled letters spelled out "SAVIOURS OF OUR TOWN - HERALDS OF OUR PROSPERITY"

A part of her dying in mortification, Luna actually giggled, a little hysterically at first. She dropped her face into a hand, covering her eyes, as if to dispel the sight. She glanced up again, hand still covering her mouth. The giggle expanded into an incredulous laugh that quickly became unrestrained and genuine good humour.

The sheer ridiculousness of seeing her little sister, immortalized in stone and way larger than life, with THAT inscription, was just too much to react to with any other emotion. It went on for several minutes and every time she thought she had it under control she was foiled by a fresh glance at the marble image. It was only after the stares of passersby began to make her uncomfortable that Luna was able to rein in her out-of-control sense of the absurd.

Still, she sat there for some while. They had done a good job on Lina - Luna judged the sculptor had taken some artistic license with Lina's bust, although who knew for sure, since it had been six years since they last saw each other. Maybe sis had grown. But if they had done so well on Lina, then presumably they had also done the others up right. That was why Luna lingered. She had never met Lina's demented comrades, and welcomed the opportunity to commit their faces to memory.

The short girl, arms slightly spread and with a beatific expression on her face, must be the Princess of Saillune, Amelia. Apparently she had made an impression on the locals. Standing behind her was the strange countenance of a man with pebbles imbedded in his face, and a surly expression. It could only be the Chimera, Zelgadiss. Luna's eyes lingered longest on the tallest figure in the group, sword raised high in what the sculptor obviously believed a heroically inspirational pose. From what Luna had heard, she doubted Gourry had ever actually done something like that. The sculptor had given him an expression that was open and generous, maybe even ingenuous, but held something deeper too.

__

So that is the man Lina had risked casting the world into the Void to rescue, the man who then turned around and managed to snatch Lina back from the clutches of the Sea Of Chaos, when the Void took her, instead Luna chuckled, suddenly noticing something: the sculptor had arranged Gourry's features so that he seemed to be gazing protectively down at the top of Lina's head.

That sculptor must have interviewed every townsperson, worked through a hundred composites of their memories, to produce such accurate replicas of people who surely weren't here more than a few days. Although, maybe, he was a local who started sketching the 'Saviours of our Town' while they were still here. Was the subject of Gourry's gaze a result of artistic license or something real? It would be interesting to find out

Luna decided it was actually rather nice to at last be able to put faces to the other members of her little sister's infamous troupe. Luna studied them long enough to be sure she would recognize them. Then, with a last disbelieving shake of her head, she got up.

She needed to find her Inn. And start figuring out where local antique shops were, and if any of them knew of a specialist in vases and maces.

* * * * * * * * * *

****

NEXT CHAPTER: Let the main tale begin! Lina is OK?

* * * * * * * * * *

Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Diane for pre-reading and commentaries!


	9. Recovery

****

Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before

__

By Elderdrake

* * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

Recovery

* * * * * * * * * *

The room was luxurious and only slightly over-decorated. The plush carpet was deep red and the walls were white, patterned plaster. The furniture was mostly of mahogany, but tastefully carved and unspoiled by the brass studs and gilt trim favoured by most of the self-consciously rich. The upholstery was all leather, the colour of coffee and cream, and in that perfect state of soft comfort that immediately precedes the transition to 'worn'. The windowsills, the fireplace, and the mantelpiece were all of gleaming, polished slate. And there was just enough in the way of small statuary and tapestry to lend elegance. All in all, it was a pleasant and warm sort of room - in a baroque sort of way - and the best the _Royal Arms Inn_ had to offer.

The comfortable atmosphere projected by the room was not, however, making much of an impact on the mood of its present occupants. Sylphiel had, for almost a full day now, been sitting by Lina's bedside. She had absolutely no idea what was wrong, and couldn't even tell whether it was physical or magical. To be safe, she had been forced to avoid magical cures and resorted to the traditional treatment for fever: warm bed, warm room, no draughts, and endlessly switching off cold compresses. In the three years since last meeting Lina and company, Sylphiel had acquired a lot of skill and experience with healing. So she was able to keep a certain professional detachment, even when her patient was a friend. It was mostly fatigue and puzzled perplexity that drifted from her direction.

Gourry was another matter. Currently he was seated in a large armchair, positioned between the windows and the bed. There was a visible trail in that thick, plush carpet: evidence that Gourry had spent a lot of time pacing from window, to fireplace, to bedside, over and over again. The palpable anxiety and tension in the room all came from him.

Ostensibly, he was on guard. As daylight had already passed back into night some hours past, the windows were now no more than an opaque reflection of the room's lit interior, and curtained off for security. He had watched the rooftops, now out of sight across the dark street, all day. Nothing had happened. By suppertime, both Sylphiel and Zelgadis had been convinced that no more attacks were in the offing. Gourry, however, could not be so sanguine and refused to rest, despite the urgings of Sylphiel. Determined not to fail again as Lina's Protector, and perhaps also moved by a real desire to see meet up with those again - so he could give them hell - he had moved to his current spot at sundown, well placed to deal with anyone crashing through the glass from outside.

The room's third occupant lay in the same slackly still pose she had kept since her friends had gotten her upstairs. It was those loose, unmoving muscles that had left Sylphiel at a complete loss. Normally, anyone with a fever as high as Lina's would have muscles alternately locked or flailing and thrashing in convulsion. But the redhead just lay still, not even her eyes moving under their lids. All the Healer had been able to do was keep the fever down, make sure the room stayed warm enough that Lina didn't get chilled, and try to be patient with Gourry's unending litany of "How is she?" or "Is she all right?"

The fourth occupant was not Zelgadis, who had sensibly returned to bed after a day of watching the Inn entrance and drinking coffee. Instead, it was a black cat that had wandered in around breakfast time, and for whatever reason decided to stay. He split his time between the bed, the fireplace, and, while the sun had been up, the windowsills. The cat had mostly given up on the two available humans, being quite ignored even when he clambered his way into their laps.

* * * * * * * * *

Another hour passed, and then a second, recorded by the remorselessly ticking brass timepiece on the mantle.

Grim and disconsolate, Gourry still sat in his armchair, facing the windows, moving only to switch his crossed legs, or to turn and ask Sylphiel about Lina. Each movement brought a faint protest from the cat that now seemed to have permanently settled, in lofty grandeur, on the chair's high backrest. Every shift in Gourry's position threatened to topple the beast from his precarious perch. But, the feline seemed quite determined to stay. In fact, he seemed to quite enjoy the gloomy swordsman's proximity, in spite of all the regular jostling and preoccupied indifference.

Gourry himself was truly adrift, lost in unfamiliar waters. To begin with he couldn't sleep, a totally alien state of affairs. Almost as alien was a sense of helplessness: a true man of action, he was discovering that the inability to act meaningfully was almost unbearable. Always, in the past, when Lina had been in real trouble, there had been something useful he could DO - even if it was just buying time for her to get better. There was no waiting about, nor time to worry, when your own life was on the line in a serious fight. Like with Shabber Shamba Big Evil Boss Guy, years ago. Here, though, _all_ he could do was wait and worry. There was no way for him to fight poison, or illness, at least not in someone else.

In truth, the keen edge of his worry had been shaved off by the long vigil and the fact that Lina's condition wasn't worsening. But it still sapped his spirit. It was very hard to see her so motionless, and silent, and, well, fragile. She was normally so volcanically full of life that it was easy to forget she was in fact a very small person. And the faint, lurking possibility of a world without Lina - logically, probably a safer and more desirable place for all - for some reason made Gourry feel like his chest was alternately caught in some monstrous crushing grip or hanging over some vast, dark abyss.

The only relief from the dark cloud in his spirit had been to try and distract himself from his own inner turmoil. He had insisted on keeping up his guard duty because it gave him the illusion of DOING something, and he tried to blank out darker thoughts with minutiae. But even dull details found a way of looping back to his real concerns

Currently his distraction was the sword he now cradled between his crooked arm and shoulder. The scabbard was pretty decent. It was quality, lacquered metal and laminate, without any gilt or other silliness, and far more durable than the common, wood and leather types he'd always used in the past. Those were always getting incinerated when Lina served him a fireball. He'd finally decided, a year past, to spend the extra coin on something that might survive Lina's temperament. It had worked, and he was no longer buying a new scabbard every two weeks or so. 

His real concern was for the blade inside. It was a good sword, the one given to him by the Villagers of Justice, and well taken-care of in the months and years since. But, it was just a basic model magic sword: enchanted for permanent sharpness, always keeping itself clean of gore, unbreakable except by another magic weapon. It had no other special properties, and that was the crux of his worry. It had served well against bandits, henchmen, evil nobles and mages and crooks, beast-men, and everything else they had dealt with since their last really big adventure. But now, the Mazoku were at it again, maybe more seriously than ever. Sure, for blocking arrows it was fine, but only so long as things stayed at that level. What use would he be when real monsters like the fog-demon - or whatever it was - that had put Lina into her current condition, decided to act more directly? How could he fulfill his duty as Lina's Protector with this weapon? Short of blocking with his body - something that would likely work once only, and buy Lina only a couple of breaths - there seemed to be little he could plan for.

For the first time since returning it to its proper owner, he missed his Sword of Light. What he really needed was something like that again but you don't just find super-swords in your average magic shop. They were usually in dangerous places, guarded by the sorts of things you needed a Lina Inverse _and_ a Sword of Light to get past.

Worst of all, Gourry worried that he might become no more than a liability for Lina. If powerful monsters were going to start showing up again, what use would he be? Against anything bigger than a Blower, Brew er, Bough? No, Brow! Demon, he'd just be in the way - maybe even a danger, if Lina had to divide her attention between him and herself - without a better weapon. Being useless in some critical fight was a terrible thing to have to contemplate. Especially if the fight was for Lina's life

Full circle. Gourry crushed the heels of his hands into his tired eyes, defeating a suspicious dampness that threatened to well up. 

It was a sigh and rustle of motion from Sylphiel's direction that brought Gourry sharply out of deep introspection and away from the brink of open distress. Half rising - and almost sending that poor cat flying - he popped his head around the high backrest to see that Sylphiel had stood up and was stretching.

The words were out almost before he thought them. They had become so automatic. 

"What is it? Is she all right?!"

Sylphiel, her back still towards the swordsman, seemed to wince just a little. What Gourry couldn't know was that all his turmoil and emotions had been creeping past his fatigue, into his voice, adding nuance to his words all evening. That tone - and what Sylphiel sensed beneath it - had sawn at her nerves far more than any difficulties posed by inexplicable illnesses. But she still managed to keep a professional bearing when she turned to face Gourry, and was more than a little proud of that.

"Her temperature has come down noticeably in the last half hour, and I think her fever has broken. She seems more naturally relaxed than before, and her breathing is what I'd expect of someone deeply asleep, now. I have no idea what was going on, but I'm pretty sure she'll be fine if we just let her sleep"

Her voice trailed off at the end. The transparent relief on Gourry's face was just too much. She had to turn away for a moment, fishing for and wringing out a last cold compress and putting it on Lina's forehead, while she swallowed to regain control. Then, as she turned back to the swordsman, she felt a wave of fatigue wash over her body.

"She'll be fine by morning: I'm sure of a recovery when I see one" She paused, yawned, pressed onwards with postponed real concerns for Gourry. "You really should get some sleep now, you know. All-nighters are bad health policy I'm ready to drop, myself."

Gourry shook his head, smiled gamely. "Thanks Sylphiel, but I'll keep watch. Just because Lina will get better doesn't mean more bad guys won't show up."

Sylphiel tried again. "Are you sure? You won't be guarding much if you fall asleep. Mister Zelgadis would surely be willing to take a shift"

"No. I'll be fine, and I've gotten pretty good at sleeping in the saddle. I can rest tomorrow, whether we're travelling or not. Let Zel sleep, so that at least someone will have a full night's rest behind them."

The Healer hesitated, then gave up. "All right, if you're sure. Be careful, let the fire burn down - it doesn't need to be quite so warm in here, now - but don't open the window until Miss Lina is awake and well. She's still got a fever, we don't want her to catch chill" 

She gave the nodding Gourry a suspicious look, but he did look a lot better than he had just moments before the restorative effects of deep relief, she supposed.

"All right then. Good night, Gourry-dea ah cough, good night" she choked a little on her traditional appellation.

The swordsman didn't even notice. "Good night, Sylphiel. And thanks for taking care of Lina so well again!" Gourry waved and turned back towards his armchair guard post. 

And with that, Sylphiel retreated to her own room down the hall.

* * * * * * * * *

Now, no matter how many times one experiences it, waking up when one can't remember going to bed is very unsettling. In Lina's case, it was only the second time she'd done it - the first, being the consequence of her eventful first brush with cherry liqueur a few months earlier - and it most definitely was not any less weird a sensation for having done it just once before.

Just like last time, there was a lingering ghost of really weird dreams. Unlike last time, the aches and pains were spread through all her body and not concentrated somewhere between her eyes. Her head felt clear - a difference - but there was also a sense of things she should be remembering and couldn't - not so different. Last time, Gourry (she _hoped_ it was Gourry) had just slid her into bed with most of her clothes still on. This time, she could feel the quality of the sheets of whatever bed she was in over every square inch of her body.

There was also a substantial weight around about her midsection, and that final detail set off a panic alarm. Her patented Automatic Virtue Protection System (™) went to emergency status. She tensed, eyes still screwed tight in mortified horror, ready to pounce upon and kill whoever might have messed with her innocence Which turned out to be not so good an idea. Every sore, stiff muscle in her body (as it turned out, pretty much all of them, even ones she didn't know she had) screeched in protest. With a wince and a faint groan, she collapsed back into the mattress.

It all turned out to be for naught, too. Her motions had jostled the weight, and as she had collapsed it let out a mild rumble of protest, plodded the length of her legs on what was definitely four small feet, settled back down at her feet, and began purring. A cat, of all things! Maybe her innocence was unblemished, after all. But then why the hell was she buck-naked in a strange bed, with no memory of the night before?

Wary, but less on edge than she had been, she finally ventured to open an eye. All she could see was a mountain of comforter limned, faintly, with a rosy glow. Ever so slowly - now very aware that anything less cautious would really hurt - she inched her way to a slightly sitting position, braced by her pillows.

Somewhere, a fairly expensive timepiece was ticking away. The room was dark except for the few thin rays of rosy light that seeped between and under thick, fully drawn curtains. The silhouette of a large, high-backed chair interposed itself between the nearest window and her bed. The faint pink glow washed her bedcovers, a couple of cabinets and armoires, a bedside table. A second chair, rather less grandiose than the looming armchair, was also at her bedside. On the table was a large basin, draped with damp, limp white cloths.

Upon seeing those, her hand instinctively went to her own forehead. Sure enough, there was a cloth there too, though it was dried out. _What the?_ _Have I been sick?_ She stared at the cloth for just a moment, then let it drop to the floor at her bedside. _And who's been tending me, then?_

A faint, muffled pop from across the room drew her startled glance It was the fireplace, with a few faint orange embers still glowing within. _A fire this close to full summer? _Sure, it had been unseasonably cool, but a fire seemed a bit of an overkill.

The rosy light continued to brighten, slowly becoming more yellow, and Lina decided it must be dawn. _Yeah but of what day?_ She was soon able to make out the clock on its mantelpiece, and the hands confirmed it was just before six in the morning. As she continued scanning her surroundings, she finally spotted her clothing in a basket just inside the door. Neatly laundered, apparently pressed and certainly folded by the looks of things, but at least a good fifteen feet away.

Too far for her to want to move her aching body, yet. She drew the coverlets closer about her shoulders for warmth, and tried to force her memory back into operation. How had she come to be where she was? Why did she hurt so much? Something must have happened to put her here. She hoped Gourry and Zel were okay then that thought brought a wave of suspicious aggravation: she hoped they were okay, but they sure as heck wouldn't stay that way if either of them had been the ones to strip her down!

A flicker of motion caught her attention. The almost forgotten cat - she could see now that it was a black one - had sat up and twitched an ear. The sorceress and cat exchanged stares for a moment. Then, apparently deciding to get better acquainted, the latter got up and sauntered closer.

Lina suddenly chuckled softly to herself. The cat was definitely a tom. She muttered quietly at him: "So, you're the first guy to manage sharing a bed with Lina Inverse! That probably makes you the bravest male alive, you know" She hadn't really meant it of course, but the cat seemed to agree anyway and started purring. Lina found she could muster the energy to scratch between its ears without hurting too much, and returned to pondering her recent past.

They had been six days out from Atlass. She recalled rain, and drizzle fog, and the usual pointless arguing and bickering with Gourry and Zel that did wonders for passing time on slow, boring roads but after that, she found she could only draw blanks, no matter how hard she prodded at her memory.

Only a quarter hour passed before she decided wracking her brains was going to be fruitless. She glanced at the cat, again. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me something about whatever is going on?"

The cat didn't offer any better reply than to partly turn away, flop onto his haunches and start washing himself. Between passes of his forepaw, it continued to look her over with one eye. Lina could almost swear the beast was somehow laughing at her

"Right. The laughingstock of kitty-cat, a new low for Sorcery Genius Lina Inverse." She shifted to a sitting position, and in doing so found the soreness everywhere was starting to fade. There were also the first sounds of activity coming from the hall outside her door.

"Well, the heck with you then, cat. It's about time I was getting dressed." And with that, she threw back the covers, ready to make the dash - or limp, more likely - for the door and her basket of clothes.

* * * * * * * * *

Fate is a cruel and heartless entity, made all the worse by being in possession of the wickedest sense of humour in the known cosmos.

In his armchair, Gourry had finally succumbed to fatigue and fallen into a light doze in the hour before dawn. Being only in a light doze, he wasn't snoring as he usually did. Shielded as he was by the high-backed chair, and soundless, there was no warning of his presence

Lina had, in her last few comments directed at the cat, been speaking in a normal tone of voice. That was certainly loud enough to awaken anyone who was dozing within a few feet, particularly someone who was desperate to hear her, hale and well.

So naturally, the poor blond swordsman awoke at just the wrong moment. From behind him came the firm voice of the sorceress, apparently healed enough to load her tone with irony and humour. " A new low for Sorcery Genius Lina Inverse"

He snapped to, and began to stand, turn, ready to greet happily as she spoke again "Well, the heck with you then cat. It's about time I was getting"

Here, fate hit the cosmic 'slo-mo' button she saved for just such savoury moments, and probably grinned in evil anticipation.

"Lina! You're okay! I'm so glaack" His words died in his throat. For, of course, just as he completed his turn and began speaking, Lina threw back her bedcovers. And, of course, the haste of rising and his turn had been just enough to swirl the curtains, just enough to let in the glowing rays of a sun just rising over the town rooftops.

Everything froze in tableau, for a fraction of a second. Gourry was a horrified silhouette surrounded by a sunny nimbus. Lina, equally horrified, was fully bathed in cheery morning light for just an instant. One could almost hear the 'click' of a camera shutter as fate took a snapshot of the moment for her scrapbook. Lina and Gourry both began to draw breath, and then fate turned off 'slo-mo' to let things play out, to their inevitable conclusion, in real time.

"AAAAAAHHHH! NO! I'M SORRY"

"AAAAAAHHHH! PERVERT!"

Gourry's life flashed before his eyes as he ducked back down behind his armchair, praying it might just afford him enough cover to survive this.

Lina somehow managed to simultaneously yank up a coverlet and recite her second-favourite spell, both in record time. " FIREBALL!"

* * * * * * * * *

Out in the hall, it had been the noises of an early-rising Zelgadis that Lina heard as she berated her feline bedmate. His own Chimeric hearing had caught the sound of Lina's voice. He had, of course, immediately headed for her door, pleased as any comrade at the recovery of another.

Suddenly, there were two bloodcurdling screams and a massive explosion.

With his characteristic dramatic chivalry, Zel drew his sword, smashed through Lina's door with a somersault, and came up in a fighting pose, pretty much all in one motion.

His sweeping survey of the room started with the missing outer wall, its rubble still sailing through the air and landing in the street below. It ended with the barely sheet-wrapped form, blazing with both fury and the glow of morning sun that now streamed in, which turned to face a new interloper.

Zel had just long enough to gulp before receiving his own Lina Inverse Outrage Special.

* * * * * * * * *

Sylphiel had gone to bed carrying some hefty new emotional burdens of her own, but had been too tired to even begin sorting things out. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

It was, at best, only four hours later when she was blasted awake by the sound of a huge explosion that also set the Inn to shaking. Still in her pajamas, she immediately flew to her door and into the hall, ready to help her friends however she could. So, she was just in time for the second explosion, and to see fried Zelgadis come sailing out of Lina's room - along with much of the doorframe masonry - to make a notable impression on the wall opposite.

The Healer dashed into the room, breaking her own speed-incantation record on one of her strongest defense spells. It certainly saved her, though not from the expected terrible villain. A third fireball ricocheted of Sylphiel's shield and shot straight up through the Inn roof. It exploded high in the sky and sent every bird within a mile into squawking flight, as well as woke half the town of Aspelund.

Sylphiel instantly took in the tableau: Zelgadis twitching in a smoking hole behind her; Gourry sprawled amongst rubble in the street below, also twitching, wearing a stunned expression on his face and for some reason bleeding a little through his nose. Lina, _also_ twitching - with fury, rather than pain - was wrapped, standing, in a twist of bed sheets, and apparently in a state of total surprise at seeing Sylphiel.

The destruction around her, the sheer unexpected audacity of Lina's behaviour after everyone had spent so much time worrying about her, the fresh wounds to her own emotions regarding Gourry It was all too much piled up at once. Sylphiel developed a twitch of her own, entirely focused in the area of her left eye. 

For only the second time in her life (curiously, the first also having had Lina at its root), the Healer was ready to give someone a real piece of her mind. And she did. At length, in measured cadence, sparing nothing, a truly inspired delivery, and something of a catharsis for her own troubles. But she failed to take into account that the outside wall was open and there was already a whole crowd of bystanders gathering in the street outside. 

* * * * * * * * *

More than an hour later, all four were seated silently around a breakfast table. Sylphiel was looking embarrassed, Lina actually looking contrite, Gourry still more than a little dazed, and Zel was in a deep sulk.

The town magistrates had left only moments before, gleefully pocketing a considerable sum in punitive fines. Sylphiel had paid her own on the charge of disturbing the peace, but it had been Zel's Royal Badge that had to pay for all the damages to the inn and Lina's fines for disturbing the peace with her spells. And _he'd_ been the least to blame of the lot.

Then the food started to arrive. The apologetic expression was suddenly wiped from Lina's face, and Gourry clicked back into the present. The two immediately fell upon the heaped platters and started bickering over the sausages.

After a few minutes, Lina realized the other two weren't eating. It was a measure of her genuine contrition - or the effectiveness of Sylphiel's rare scolding - that she actually abandoned the tabletop to Gourry's unchallenged pillaging, in order to try and set things right with her other friends.

"Oh get over it, Zel! Take it like a man. I even blew up Prince Philionel when he stumbled across my bath once, and after I healed him, he didn't hold a grudge er, for long, anyway."

The Chimera's eye twitched, once.

"Come on, I healed you guys. And I'll pay you back, okay. I'm paying for breakfast, right? Doesn't that count as a start?"

Zel's eye twitched, again, and he still didn't speak. But at least he reached for the coffeepot.

Sylphiel interjected. "Miss Lina! That's hardly the problem! You haven't even really apologized yet."

"For what?"

"Blowing your friends through the wall, of course! It's not like it was their fault that they saw you like that!"

"Okay, okay! Sorry already, guys. Jeez!" Lina's eyes then bored into Sylphiel's. "But then, just whose fault was it my clothes were so far away, and a man left in my room without supervision, eh?" she emphasized her point with a jab of pancake-bearing fork.

The Healer gasped a little, and blushed. "Um, well oh dear."

"Ah ha! Thought so!" Lina waggled her fork towards Sylphiel in vindication; then, realizing the utensil was about to lose its load from all the waving around, jammed the cooling piece of pancake into her mouth.

Sylphiel tried to recover some honour, and, maybe fish for some answer to her own questions. "But, Miss Lina, how could you have blasted poor Gourry-dea Mister Gourry through the wall, after he'd been so worried about you?"

Gourry finally put in his two bits. "Hey I'm not really mad, gulp at least we know for sure that Lina is definitely all better slurp, right?"

Lina, reminded by Gourry's speaking between mouthfuls that he'd been given freedom of the tabletop for the whole minute she'd been talking, was distracted for a moment by the need to compete for the last few bacon strips. Then she returned her attention to the others.

"Well, Okay, maybe I did that, but he should have been more careful and kept his eyes to himself! And how could I know what had been going on? I'm the one with a two-day hole in her memory. I didn't even know you were here, Sylphiel. How else was I to react to being completely er, well, undressed with Gourry in the same room?"

Sylphiel opened her mouth to retort in defense, but Zel had finally quit fuming enough to jump on another part of Lina's statement.

"Do you really not remember a thing about the attack, or the ride after, or meeting Sylphiel?"

"Not a thing. All I've got to cover the last couple of days are hazy impressions of having had really weird dreams."

Sylphiel blinked, her curiosity roused. "What sort of dreams?" Maybe some hint could be garnered about whether it had been magic or poison or just a really nasty 'flu.

"I dunno. They're hazy, remember?"

In a tone that harked back to her earlier eruption, Sylphiel was quite firm: "It might be important, so _TRY_."

In the middle of spooning up mountains of whipping cream from a rolled fruit crepe, Lina paused, glanced sidelong at the healer, and gulped hard. Sylphiel being firm was almost as scary as big sister Luna.

She thought hard for a second. In that odd way dreams sometimes had, a few details had wandered back into conscious memory as the morning had passed by. As each detail popped up, it led to a few others

"Well, okay. A big dark bubble I couldn't escape. It suddenly turned inside out, but that somehow really hurt. For a moment, a lot of swirling bright lights merging and splitting, bouncing and cascading all over the place. Just at the end, a feeling like I was going to burst that I had to force down, but made me ache all over and then I guess it was about then that I woke up, actually."

Even Gourry had paused in his ravening of the breakfast platters to listen, but it was Zel that spoke up.

"I thought you said they were hazy!"

Lina gripped the table in irritation. "Well, soo-rry! It just bubbled back while I was explaining it. Sheesh...! Aaagh! Hey! Gourry! Those are MY crepes!"

"You're the one who said you felt like bursting. I thought you were full!"

"Even YOU know that's not what I meant, jellyfish! Give'em back! Now!"

As Lina and Gourry erupted into a fork-sparring contest over the last peach and cherry-filled crepe rolls, Zel glanced towards Sylphiel who was looking very thoughtful.

She shrugged and replied softly. "I don't know, Mister Zelgadis. I'm a healer, not a dream interpreter. It just sounded like a common, loopy fever-dream to me. And the aches she felt in it were probably just a reflection of what she was really feeling outside of the dream I'll gve it ore thought once I've rested and can think straight." She reached for a plate of waffles the two tabletop raveners had missed, and a teapot as she spoke. " Pass the cream?"

* * * * * * * * *

After another hour, they had passed through Aspelund's Saillune Gate and set forth on the pleasant, well-kept road towards the White Magic Capital. Hereabouts, less than a day from the great city, their route crossed no greater wilderness then the odd dozen-acre wood. Real spring seemed to finally be in full bloom, albeit less than two weeks before summer solstice. The sun was warm; the sky pocked with only a few fluffy little clouds, the fields were green with fresh sprouts. Birds chased each other on the wing, staking claims and singing their virtues. Pleasant farms and hamlets, the odd summer villa, all in the Saillune style - whitewashed, red-or orange-tiled, well-kept, and afloat in gardens - dotted the roadside. 

There was a fair amount of traffic. Household servants were headed out to prepare country villas, vanguard for the usual mass summer exodus of the wealthy. There was a steady stream of small merchant caravans and produce carts. This time of year, far from the last harvest and nowhere near the next, they mostly carried root vegetables and produce, so there was a constant lingering odour of turnip, parsnip, potato and soil, mixed with cheese and milk as the carts passed by. Herders created small traffic jams with their beasts headed to market. Then there were the Royal Post couriers dashing by every hour, and a few country nobles heading into Saillune early, ahead of the crowds expected for Princess Amelia's celebrations in two weeks.

Even Gourry quickly conceded there was no likelihood of trouble in this busy, warm, open, and - most importantly - fog-free country. Within minutes of leaving Aspelund, he had passed out in the saddle, sleeping off his double all-nighter and huge breakfast. Sylphiel passed out soon after, dozing on her cart bench. Her two horses were initially quite confused at the loss of leadership, enough that Zel had had to grab their leads a couple of times. It stopped the unplanned trips into the ditch but also jolted Sylphiel back awake, spouting profuse apologies.

To everyone's surprise, Lina offered to take over, though not without making a big deal of her wonderfulness for doing so. Normally, she would never lower herself from Sorcery Genius to Wagon Driver, but she had a bunch of reasons. Most of all, she was still more sore than she cared to admit, and getting back in the saddle had only made it worse. The padded cart bench would be welcome relief without having to reveal her lack of toughness. She also felt she owed some apology to Sylphiel, or at least thanks for taking care of her. And, as the daughter of a modest merchant, she had learned to handle two horses in harness as a child, so she was the logical substitute for the exhausted healer. Despite a new tension between the two girls (Lina recognized it existed, but was clueless as ever about its source), they ended up travelling side by side, one deeply sleeping, the other enjoying a little flashback to her childhood upbringing and merchant roots.

On such a fine day, even the horses - who had also benefited from an unexpected full day of rest - were inspired to move smartly along. They were within sight of Saillune's outer walls by mid-afternoon, scot-free and more than an hour ahead of schedule.

* * * * * * * * * *

****

NEXT CHAPTER: Saillune at last! Who's that fancy-dress guy?

* * * * * * * * * *

Slayers Characters © 1991-2003 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002-2003 D. Robbins

Special thanks to Debbie for editing!


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